A Tale of Two Lockets
by Dragongirl224
Summary: Gwendolyn Yardley finds a locket on a reunion camp with her girlguide troop that matches the one she found in her grandmothers jewlery box, and is sucked into Pride and Prejudice. Based off the 2005 movie. Mr. Darcy X OC
1. The Two Lockets

**AN: First try at a P&P fanfic, lets hope this goes well! This chapter is just a set up to the opening lines of the movie. I'll mostly be following the movie, but I'll be adding my own insights and scenes. I'll try to stick as close to the events as possible :) Please read and review!**

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"Come on Gwen! We're going to be late!" Gayle called to her friend, her corkscrew curls swinging every which way as she ran around her room, stuffing things into her massive backpack.  
Gwendolyn chuckled, tucking her dark red hair behind her ear as she watched her friend scramble to find everything.  
"I've been ready since last night, so I don't know why you're blaming me. Are you looking for this?" she held up a pair of sturdy runners, mud stained laces a knotty mess.  
"Yes!" Gayle yelled, snatching the shoes and shoving her feet in them. Gwendolyn shook her head, smirking at her friend's antics.  
The two twenty year olds had lived together since they were seventeen, renting the suite above Gayle's parents' garage. They had been best friends since grade ten at their high school, and had been in the same Guiding group. This weekend, all the girls in their group were getting together again for the first time in two years, and going on a three-day camping trip on Vancouver island.  
"Come on slow poke. Let's go. We're taking my car!" Gwen called, grabbing her massive pack from beside the door down to the rest of the house.  
"Fine... I still say that we should take my car," Gayle grumbled, rolling her eyes.  
"I don't fit in the tin can you call a car, to say nothing of all the crap we have to take," Gwendolyn said, elbowing her friend in her ribs. Gwen had bought her parents standard Ford Escape, Gayle buying her dad's little Kia Rio. Gwen was almost six feet tall, most of that height coming from her legs, and fitting herself in her curly-haired friend's car was a chore.  
She dug the keys out from the small front pouch of her bag and clicked open the silver Escape, unlatching the hatch and throwing her bag in the back on top of a four-man tent, a large cooler, and a fabric shopping bag full of chips and other junk food.  
"You ready for this?" She laughed, knowing very well it was all that Gayle had been talking about for weeks. Both girls were excited, but Gayle was far more vocal about it, as she had been in Guides far longer than Gwen.  
"I was born ready!" Gayle said, plugging her iPod in to the car and set to picking a song as they pulled out of the driveway.  
The car, which Gayle had affectionately started calling Pedro, was standard, and Gwen had been driving it since she was sixteen, and was quite good at it.  
Thinking about her car made Gwendolyn start thinking about her parents, and how she hadn't seen them, or her little brother for a while. _I'll have to visit when I get back_ she thought. Her mother loved old folk tales and legends, and was responsible for naming Gwendolyn. She was also responsible for getting Gwen interested in piano, which was her favorite instrument.  
Her father was more interested in science fiction novels and movies, and had dragged both his children into the 'wormhole of lasers and soul sucking aliens,' as her mom said.  
Her brother, Garth, was an odd one in Gwendolyn's opinion. While she had a love of music, drawing, and was in her second year of Social Services at UFV with hopes of becoming a humanitarian, Garth was only interested in shooting people in videogames, and spent most of his time on the computer.  
It took an hour to get to the ferry, then they were on their way to the island. Alix, Courtney, Jasmine, Megan, and Taylor had caught the earlier ferry, and were setting up tents on the campsite they had reserved.

Gayle insisted on bringing her pack up from the car, since she wanted to use some of the things she had brought during the ferry ride.  
"I swear this bag is as big as I am," Gayle said, making Gwendolyn laugh. Their Guiding packs were indeed huge, with enough room to store a small child if you so desired, and plenty of straps to tighten and loosen each time you took the pack off or put it on.  
"No joke. People must think we're moving into the ferry!" the rest of the trip was fairly uneventful, the only things that happened was multiple card games of War that threatened to turn violent, and the purchasing of much candy.

"What do you think of Joey?" Gayle suddenly blurted out, referring to her boyfriend. Gwendolyn had been the one who set the two up, seeing as Joesef was a family friend. He was a total nerd, much like Gayle herself, and the two had gotten along splendidly, much to Gwen's approval.

"You two are extremely cute together, he likes you a lot, and he's funny, good natured, and generally nice to be around." Gwen laughed, twisting her hair into a bun with one of the many elastics on her wrist. "I hope you and him have a better relationship than," she shuddered. "Greg and I." Greg had been Gwen's one and only boyfriend. He transferred into her high school for grade twelve, and the two had several classes together. They dated until the end of the semester, and through half of the summer until Gwen heard of a party he went to in July where he soberly made out with all the girls there, then proceeded to spread rumours about how bad she was in bed, even though she would never have slept with anyone after such short a time.

The frown that had fallen over her face at the thought of Greg was quickly wiped away, and her normal smile returned. "Joe will not get the slushy umbrella from me!" The two burst into laughter at the thought of their inside joke.

"I almost forgot about that one, it's been so long since either of us brought it up!" Gayle said. "You came up with that in grade eleven, right?" Gwen nodded, grinning widely.

"What was it? 'If you ever date someone I think is a total jerk, I will wait until winter and fill his umbrella with slush so that when he opens it he'll get covered in said slush,'" She remembered, causing the two to laugh even more.

Gayle had far more luck in finding boys than Gwendolyn, even if the relationships didn't always stick, she was never lacking male attention.

"Hah! With my luck, I'll end up an old maid with more cats than I can count!" Gwen chuckled. She was one of the few girls in her university who was single, and she didn't mind it all that much. It did bother her sometimes, but for the most part, she was a girl who wouldn't date a boy just because he was there. She liked to think herself a good judge of character, even thought Greg proved she was not as infallible as she once thought.

Gayle smirked at her friend, knowing that she would find the right man someday. Gwendolyn was five foot eight, with long auburn hair and clear blue eyes. She was one of the kindest people Gayle knew, not liking to drag anyone down with gossip, but was headstrong as well. On a regular basis, her blue eyed friend stood up to the uptight popular kids when they picked on somebody, and she was a great friend who was always there for her.

"You'll find someone someday, Gwen. Don't worry. You just need someone good enough to come along." Gwendolyn rolled her eyes, sighing. The two went back to their game of War, headphones stretched between them as they hummed to whichever song came up.

They pulled into a parking spot beside Alix's Honda Civic, Gayle unplugging her iPod before joining Gwen at the back of the truck. Gwen checked her phone, double checking the directions to the campsite as she swung her heavy pack over a shoulder.

"We have to go down here," She said, gesturing to the path heading North from the parking lot. "Then take the second left. Alix says they're all set up, and our tent is ready." They left the cooler in the car, taking the tent and the bag of junk food with them.

The two walked in silence for a while before breaking into song. Both had taken vocal courses, and were decent singers, certainly not unpleasant to listen to. They sang One Life by Hedley as they made their way down the path. The skies had been clouding over as they drove from the ferry, and there was an impressive bank of dark clouds hanging over their heads.

_Hopefully we won't have to cancel our trip_ Gwen thought, glancing at the cloud cover as they switched to Fallout by Marianas Trench.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Gayle announced just as they came within sight of the path they needed to take to where the others were. There was a gross looking old outhouse opposite the path, and Gayle set her pack on the ground before heading in.

"If there's a serial killer with a chain saw in there, scream so I can start running," Gwen said, smirking at her friend, who stuck her tongue out before shutting the door behind her.

"It smells worse than Becca's dairy farm in here!"

"Did you expect it to smell like roses and sunshine?" Gwen asked, shaking her head at her friend's antics. The path was surrounded by undergrowth at the edges, with huge, old evergreen trees a bit farther back. It was so peaceful, with birds chirping in the early summer air, squirrels chattering to one another as they rustled from tree to tree. This was the type of place she loved.

The booming sound of thunder filled the air.

"Great," Gayle said, still in the outhouse.

"Yeah, pretty much," Gwen agreed. It was then that something caught her eye sparkling in a bush. Taking a curious step closer, she saw it was a locket. It looked very familiar, like something she had seen before. She drew even with the bush, and realized that the heart-shaped locket, about the size of a loony, was the locket she had found when going through her grandmothers old jewelry, and was wearing at that moment. She had never been able to open it, but liked the way it looked, with vines twining around the edges, a smaller heart echoing the locket itself in the centre. She checked her neck, and found the locket was still there. She picked the locket up off the bush, noting that its chain was thicker, as if meant for a man. She found the little indent on the side, slipped her thumbnail into it and gently opened it.

There was a burst of light, and when Gayle exited the outhouse a moment later, her friend was gone, along with the clouds, both which were odd.

"Gwen? Come on! Let's go!" She said loudly, squinting in the sudden light. When this brought no response, Gayle figured that her friend must have gone ahead to the campsite, trying to freak her out. When she got there though, the others had no idea where their friend could be.

They figured she was playing some sort of joke, and thought she would turn up in a few minutes. After a while, they grew worried, and began looking for her, to no avail. By the time the sun was almost setting a few hours later, the campground was filled with policemen and search dogs.

Gwendolyn had blacked out when he locket she found lit up like stadium lights, and when she regained consciousness, there were two young girls hovering over her. She blinked a couple times to make sure she was seeing clearly, and the pair above her burst into shrill giggles, running off. Gwen pulled her arms out from under the thick, downy comforter on top of her, rubbing her eyes until she was sure they were working. It was then that she realized she was in a nightgown. She didn't know those things still existed, and it certainly wasn't hers.

She was in a medium sized room with faded blue paint, a night stand to one side with an unlit candle, and a window lighting the room. It the whole affair, while elegant and full of dignity, seemed past its prime, like her aunts stately old greyhound, Martin.

She slowly sat up, taking in the rest of the moderately furnished room. Besides the bed, a dresser, and a worn armchair, there wasn't much in the room. A faded painting of the grounds of some grand mansion adorned the wall, and there was a vase of fresh flowers on the dresser. She had just noticed her pack when a pounding as somebody ran up the stairs just outside the door broke Gwen's study of the room. A plump woman appeared at the doorway, accompanied by the two young girls who had ran from the room so suddenly. She realized they were all in old fashioned floor-length dresses, and was unsure as to what was going on.

"Good morning my dear!" The plump woman said, giving a small curtsy, echoed by the giggling girls, before coming to the side of the bed. "I am Mrs. Bennet. You gave us quite a turn. When we came across you in the backyard we thought you were slain!"

"My name is Lydia," Said one of the girls, giggling once more. She had a long face, and soft-looking mouse brown hair, and she gestured to the girl next to her. "And this is my sister Kitty!" Kitty elbowed her sister in the ribs and scowled at her.

"I am perfectly capable of introducing myself Lydia!"

Gwen turned her attention back to Mrs. Bennet, who was fussing over the covers.

"I'm Gwendolyn Yardley." She paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "Where am I?"

"Why, You are in Loungbourn, dear." Geography not being her strong point, Gwen furrowed her brow. She was going to ask if that was in Australia, but realized just in time that they had British accents.

"Oh. Okay. Um. Do you have any idea how I got here?" She asked, doubting they did, but asking anyway. She thought back to the last thing she remembered, and came to the conclusion that someone must have knocked her out and dumped her in some sort of Amish town. In Europe. What was going on?

"There was this marvellously loud clap of thunder!" Lydia said, flopping down on the foot of the bed, narrowly missing Gwen's foot.

"Not a cloud in the sky. It was quite queer," Kitty added.

"The gardener found you, out cold in the yard. He brought you in, and we've been taking care of you for... how long has it been Kitty?"

"Three days now." The way the two of them finished each other's sentences was quite distracting.

"Really? What's the date?" Mrs. Bennet frowned at her, seeming to disapprove of the way she spoke.

"It is July 24th 1797 dear. Goodness, you ask a lot of questions." She continued to prattle on about the Bennet's history, their house, and her four daughters, but Gwen didn't register any of it.

"I need to go outside," She decided, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, steadying herself on the bed post as a wave of hunger hit her.

"You must eat first! Where were you heading to before you passed out in our backyard?"

"I- I- I just need to go outside, I need to check something," Gwen insisted, heading to the door, her legs working better now. Mrs. Bennet followed, all concerned, telling Gwen she ought to eat something. She ran down two flights of stairs to the bottom floor, and was grateful that the front door was right there so she didn't run around the Bennet's house looking foolish. Upon exiting the house, her jaw almost fell off her skull.

Gwendolyn wasn't in Kansas anymore. There were chickens squawking and plucking corn off the ground, a wolfhound chasing a flock of geese around the feet of a gardener trimming a hedgerow.

There was a dirt lane just to the left with a horse-drawn carriage trundling along. What struck Gwen most about the whole thing was how clean the air seemed. Even up in the mountains, where her parents had a cabin, the air was never this fresh. The sky was brighter, and everything just seemed... cleaner.

"Oh." Her legs stopped working, and Gwen sat down on the step quite hard.

For Gwen, the next two months were a bit of a blur. She met the rest of the Bennets, and quite liked them. She tried to explain as best she could where she came from, but the only thing they really seemed to understand was that she had nowhere to go. For the first two weeks, she would stay in the little room they had provided her, curtains shut, fighting depression and trying to figure out how to get home, lockets constantly at hand. Jane or the Bennet's maid would bring her food at the appropriate time, which she would rarely eat. Sometimes, Jane would stay for a while, and try to get Gwen to open up, and she slowly started to, telling the kind, soft-spoken girl about her friends back home, her life. Eventually, Gwen managed to pick herself up out of her emotional stupor to venture around the house.

A little over two weeks after she arrived, Gwen finally set the lockets down. She wasn't sure how the lockets worked into the event that brought her to the eighteenth century. Both opened now, and only contained blank white slips of paper, and nothing she did to them could convince them to take her back to her family and friends. There was no secret button she could find, and nothing she did to them triggered any sort of response. In a fit of temper, she had even tried to smash them against a stone wall, but they weren't even scratched. She had settled herself on the fact that she would be there for a while, and wasn't as tenacious about fooling with the unresponsive lockets. When she wasn't fiddling with the lockets, she slipped the one she had found into an interior pocket in her guiding pack so it wouldn't get lost, putting hers back on. Throughout the following months, she would lay both on the bed, and she would stare at them for a half hour or more, willing them to send her home. It was quite curious. Neither locket would open if not in the presence of the other.

She found much healing on the Bennet family pianoforte, playing all her favorite songs. She and Mary got along fairly well, though the younger girl was slightly bitter that Gwen could play the piano even if only slightly better than she.

Mrs. Bennet and Jane took on joint responsibility for teaching Gwen the proper etiquette and dance, and the auburn haired girl found it a welcome distraction. While the way they used their words was far more complex than she was used to, she could understand their meaning more, and was getting better at speaking like they did. Mr and Mrs. Bennet came to regard Gwen as sort of a long lost child, and she got along with their other children well enough to be considered their sister.

The family had come to terms with the fact that they would never understand where the new member to the household came from, but knew that she was something special. Gwendolyn had amazed them with her cell phone, even though there was no service, and Jane had helped her go through her iPod, writing all the lyrics to Gwen's favorite songs down so she wouldn't forget them when her battery died.

Having come to the conclusion that where Gwendolyn truly came from was beyond imagination, they quickly agreed that they would tell all their friends that the Yardley's were family friends, and Gwen's parents had both met unfortunate ends. They told everyone who cared to know that they took Gwen under their wing, and they would be caring for her until she found a husband.

Once she had recovered, and gotten more used to the fact that she was stuck in the past, Gwen opened up a bit more, and they found her near constant smile and caring nature endearing. Jane, whose room she had been occupying, moved back in when Gwen started recovering from her bought of depression. The eldest Bennet had been in the younger girls' room, and, thankfully, the two oldest children of the household got along amiably.

Gwen would always miss her friends and family, though, and Jane would often wake her from nightmares. There was one in particular that occurred alarmingly frequently. She would be on the bank of a river with the Bennets, and across the river would be her family and friends. The Bennets would beg her to stay, but she longed to be with the people she knew, who were beckoning her over. She'd leap in the water, the dress she was wearing hampering her greatly. She would look back to the Bennets, who were sadly turning and walking away from the river, fading into the forest that had sprung up behind them.

She would turn back to the shore where her family and friends were, and keep swimming towards them, but she'd never seem to get any closer than the middle of the river. Her dress would keep getting heavier and heavier, and her family would start to point and laugh at her struggles. She'd turn around to go back, but that didn't work either. Everything outside the river would start running and dripping like melting wax, including the people she was trying to reach, and then her dress would pull her under, water filling her mouth and nose, making her wake up spluttering and coughing.

The nightmare, while unpleasant, always faded quickly, and Gwen would normally be in better spirits by the time breakfast was done. She was a great help around the house, cleaning up after herself (thanks to years of her mother's incessant training), and was a great help with the other animals on the property.

Gwendolyn knew she had become a part of the family when Mrs. Bennet a) insisted she refer to herself and Mr. Bennet as mother and father, and b) began including her in her rants about how none of her poor daughters were married. Gwen had quickly gotten used to Mrs. Bennets seemingly desperate need to marry off her children, and Jane had explained that who a daughter married meant everything to the parents, a foreign concept to Gwen. She had grown up with the idea that she could marry whomever she chose for whichever reason she chose, within some reasonable boundaries. Jane smiled softly when Gwen had crossed her arms and stubbornly stated that she wouldn't be marrying anyone she didn't want to, and softly told her that Gwen would have to have the worst of luck to remain single.

Charlotte Lucas, whom Gwen had befriended in August, agreed with the eldest Bennet girl's assessment, telling Gwen that only Jane's beauty itself surpassed Gwen's, which the blue-eyed girl waved off with a smirk. She figured that if boys from her own time hadn't found her attractive, then boys from this time probably wouldn't either.

She supposed she had developed a bit of Stockholm syndrome, adapting to survive, but there was nothing she could do to get back to where she came from. Sometimes, the thoughts of what and who she left behind would hit her, and she'd get quiet, tears threatening.

Charlotte and Jane were the best at recognizing these moments, and would do their best to cheer Gwen up.

While she got along with all the Bennets, Lydia was the one whose sanity she most questioned. Kitty was her accomplice. But Gwen was sure that the second youngest sister would be more sensible if separated from her younger sibling.

It was a fateful day, however, when Gwen was returning home from a walk, having been sketching in the field, and just as she passed the window to Mr. Bennet's study, overheard Mrs. Bennet proclaim loudly.

"Netherfield has let at last!"

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**AN: Hope you liked it! If you have constructive criticism, please feel free to tell me. Please review. I like to know what people think. Also, the more reviews I get, the more likely I am to want to post more :)**


	2. Mr Darcy is a Snob

**AN: Thanks for the reviews guys! I don't think I've ever had such a quick response to a fanfic I've posted. I'm going to try to stick to posting chapters every Tuesday and Thursday, but no promises. I'm terrible at keeping to scedules, so we'll see how this one goes. Hope you like the chapter. Nothing incredibly exciting happens, all from the movie. Next chapter will have a few more added scenes, I promise! Please review!**

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"Do you not want to know who has taken it?"

Gwen smiled to herself at her adoptive mothers words. Mr. Bennet would be hard pressed to avoid hearing about it, since his wife would tell him anyways. The woman was as flighty as a bumblebee, flitting from flower to flower until she found one she liked, and sticking to it with a dogged determination.

"As you wish to tell me, my dear, I doubt I have any choice in the matter," Mr. Bennet replied calmly. His patience never ceased to amaze Gwendolyn. He was sometimes quite sarcastic, but he always listened quietly to what his fluttery wife had to say. She often wondered how the two contrasting personalities had put up with each other long enough to decide they wanted to be married, but could never think of a scenario.

Gwen continued into the house, chuckling as she thought of how happy Mrs. Bennet was sure to be that the Netherfield mansion had sold. It was a lavish estate, and the buyer was sure to be rich, thus dooming him to being in the crosshairs of Mrs. Bennet's sights. She would most likely throw all of her daughters at the man, hoping one would stick, if the stories she had heard from the other Bennet girls were anything to go by.

Drawn by the familiar sound of giggling, Gwen turned down the hall to where she could see Kitty and Lydia's backs as they pressed their eager faces to the door of their father's study. They were listening at the door. Again.

"You two are ridiculous!" Gwen said, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation, her sketchbook still clenched in one hand. She was glad her mechanical pencil was stuck firmly in the spiral rings of the book, or it would have gone flying.

"Shh! This is important!" Lydia hissed, shushing Gwen with a wave. "One Mr. Bingley has arrived from the north."

Gwen sighed and joined her two younger 'siblings' at the door. They were likable enough, if a bit too shrill and giggly for Gwen's taste.

"Five thousand a year!" Kitty squealed. Gwen arched a brow. While, where she came from, five thousand a year was less than nothing, she had quickly determined that here, that was quite a bit of money. Inflation was more of a pain than she had previously thought.

"Really?" Gwen asked, leaning towards the crack in the door, trying to get a look at Mr and Mrs. Bennet. The word 'single' suddenly floated to their ears, drawing only slightly muffled shrieks from the youngest Bennets.

"Who's single?" Jane asked, appearing over Gwen's shoulder.

"Mr. Bingley, apparently," Gwen grinned at her blond friend before being hushed by Kitty and Lydia. "Oh calm yourselves," Gwen sighed, rolling her eyes.

"And how can that possibly affect them?" Mr. Bennet asked, pacing across their narrow field of vision. Gwen found him likable, and got along splendidly with him, their sense of humour much the same, but she sometimes found him a little too distant from his daughters. That hadn't effected them in any great way, though, and she thought him none the less of it.

"Oh Mr. Bennet, how can you be so tiresome! You know he must marry one of the girls!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, drawing a grin from Gwen. The woman never seemed to talk of anything but the suitability of men, or the value of marrying well. It was quite annoying, but she supposed that having Lydia and Kitty as daughters would make any woman eager to marry said daughters off.

"I'm sure Mr. Bingley will appreciate being told to marry one of you," She whispered to Jane, who giggled softly.

"You are not left out, miss! Our mother will marry you off too before the end of it," the soft spoken woman replied, her wide eyes filled with laughter.

"You must go and visit him at once!" Mrs. Bennet said as her husband opened the door, revealing the gaggle of girls listening to their conversation.

"Good heavens. People," He said, unsurprised, used to his many daughters listening to conversations through the various doors of the house. He was carrying a potted plant as the girls stepped aside to let him through, giggling heartily at his words. Mrs. Bennet flew out after him, intent on continuing their discussion. Between the sudden stampede of feet on the floor and Mary's heavy-handed playing of the pianoforte, Gwen didn't catch the next few words exchanged.

"Come on!" She laughed, snatching Mary from the piano stool and dragging her behind the herd of Bennets heading to the drawing room.

"There's no need. I already have," Mr. Bennet said just as Gwen and Marry came in sight. Gwen let go of Mary's arm and followed the herd of shrill women flooding into the drawing room, laughing at their behavior.

"Mr. Bennet! How can you tease me so? Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?"

Gwen threw herself on the couch, clutching her sketchbook to her chest, a wide grin splitting her face. She was most amused by the events unfolding in front of her.

"You are mistaken my dear. I have the highest respect for them. They have been my constant companion these twenty years," Was his dry reply as he sat himself in the large wingback chair in the corner, winking when he caught Gwen's eye. She stifled another laugh.

"Is he amiable?" Mrs. Bennet asked.

"Who?" Mary asked, having missed all the conversation.

"Is he handsome?" Kitty asked, looking like, for lack of a better description, the cat that got the cream.

"Who?" Mary asked again.

"Oh he's sure to be handsome," Lydia said, dancing about.

"For five thousand a year I'm sure not many people would care if he had warts," Gwen said, smirking at the youngest Bennet, who stuck her tongue out cheekily.

"Who's got warts?" Mary asked, sounding frustrated. Gwen felt sympathy for her, but was unable to explain what was going on before Lydia swept down on the couch beside her and started talking again.

"So will he come to the ball two days from now papa?"

After Mr. Bennet's next words, no one would be able to get a word in edgewise.

"I believe so."

The shrieking and jumping that ensued was ridiculous, but Gwen supposed it was understandable. It was a rare occasion that someone new moved into town, let alone a rich, single young man. Gwen laughed as Kitty and Lydia hopped around Jane, both wanting to use her fabric to adorn their dresses.

Two days from the exciting announcement, and the day before the ball, the constant shrieking and preparations got to Gwen, and she announced that she was heading out to town to get some ribbons for the younger girls.

"You are a lucky woman," Mr. Bennet sighed, handing her some coins. "Here. Take my money and get going, before they ensnare you yet again to help with re-trimming something or other. I shall have to find some business to attend to out of doors."

"Good luck!" Gwen laughed. "And thank you for the money!"

She hoped that he would survive being in that house with all that was going on. It was a surprise to her that there was a spare thread or scrap of fabric left in the house, as the girls were making alterations to their dresses in preparation of meeting the mysterious Mr. Bingley.

Gwen sang softly to herself as she walked to town, briefly considering releasing her hair from its braid before rejecting the idea.

"_You feel like a candle in a hurricane_

_Just like a picture with a broken frame_

_Alone and helpless, like you've lost your fight_

_But you'll be alright, you'll be alright,"_

Stand by Rascal Flatts had been one of her all-time favorite songs when she was a teenager, and it had been the first song she learned to play on the piano that wasn't directly from a dusty music book. The book of lyrics she and Jane had put together since her arrival at Longbourn was her only source material as far as melodies and tunes were concerned, and she had practiced all the songs she already knew until it was highly unlikely her fingers would fumble on the keys.

Her locket bumped against her chest as she jumped off the log she had been walking along, and a sharp longing for home ran through her.

When she arrived in town a little under an hour later, she smiled at the rustic charm of it all. If she knew how to get home, she would quite like being in the seventeen hundreds. It was such a quaint time, full of horse-drawn carriages, romantic dresses, and chivalrous men. As it was, she had decided to take it with a grain of salt and enjoy it while she could, and continue to try and get home.

"Gwendolyn!"

Gwen span and saw Charlotte with her mother, her friend smiling widely as she came over to her.

"What brings you to town?" The brown haired girl asked, greeting her red-haired friend with a hug.

"I need to buy ribbon for the Bennet girls. They seem to have run out." Gwen rolled her eyes. "That, and I wanted to get out of that mad-house while I still have my sanity." Charlotte laughed, and the two strolled in the general direction of the fabric store. Charlotte had been a good friend since Gwen's arrival, and she greatly enjoyed her company.

"And you? Why are you here?" Gwen inquired as they passed a flower stand, the last ones of the summer, she expected.

"My mother insists on purchasing new shoes for the ball," Charlotte sighed. "I needed something to do, so I came along. I am glad I did, for I fear it has been too long since we last saw each other," She said with a smile.

"True, true," Gwen chuckled. She was reminded of Gayle, but quickly pushed thoughts of her curly haired friend away so she wouldn't cause a scene with the tears that traditionally followed thoughts of her best friend.

Upon exiting the fabric store, Gwen having purchased her ribbons, the topic of her and Charlotte's conversation turned to the new arrivals.

"Mr. Bingley is quite agreeable," Charlotte informed her, having met him and the other Netherfield guests the other night. "Though his sister is... questionable."

"How so?" Gwen prodded, hoping for more information, as she was sure it would provide great leverage against the Bennet's.

"She was all smiles and praises, but there was something in her eyes that made me feel as though she was looking down on my family and I." Charlotte had said with frown. "There is one other guest in Mr. Bingley's home, a Mr. Darcy, who has twice as much per year as Mr. Bingley, but he was unable to attend. Apparently he had to see to business."

Gwen nodded, bundling the ribbon up tighter in her hand, whishing plastic bags had been invented, or at the very least she had not forgotten a basket at Longbourn.

"I suppose we'll all see him tomorrow night," Gwen mused as she waved goodbye to her friend, who had decided to stay in town and help her mother finish her shopping.

All the way back to the Bennet house, she thought about Mr. Bingley, his apparently snobbish sister, and the mysterious Mr. Darcy. She wondered how she and the Bennet's would get along with them, as she was sure Mrs. Bennet would insist on all the girls meeting them straight off.

"I got the ribbon!" Gwen said, tossing said ribbon on Lydia's bed. Lydia and Kitty were, with Jane's help, hemming their dresses and adding adornments.

"Thank you so much, Gwen!" Lydia said gleefully, snatching the strips of fabric up and comparing it to her dress. Gwen rolled her eyes and moved to help Jane finish pinning up the hem of Kitty's dress.

The blonde shot her a grateful glance, her lips tightly sealed around several pins.

"Charlotte met Mr. Bingley last night, and his sister," Gwen informed the room, causing Lydia and Kitty to drop the fabric they were measuring and rush to her side.

"Don't keep secrets! Tell us what he's like!"

"Yes, do tell us!"

Gwen laughed, and made calming gestures.

"It's not that exciting, calm down you two. Charlotte says he's very agreeable, but his sister may not be so nice, she's not too sure." The two girls squealed, gushing over the new news, while Gwen just exchanged amused glances with Jane before returning to the task of hemming the dress.

"Apparently there's someone else with them, Mr. Darcy, but Charlotte didn't meet him," Gwen told Jane as the last pin was put in place. The other two girls were busy fussing over their fabric, and weren't paying attention to the two older girls for once.

"Well, we will meet him soon enough, I'm sure."

"Maybe your mother will kill two birds with one stone and marry off two of you," Gwen said, straight faced. It didn't last long, and soon the two were in fits of laughter.

The sound of fiddles filled the air as Gwen adjusted her skirts, still not totally used to having to wear a dress. Around the Bennet house, she was allowed to wear her baggy sweats and band shirts that were in her pack, but as soon as there was talk of leaving the house, she'd need to go get changed into one of the many dresses the Bennet's had procured for her. This one was a forest green one with a cream-coloured ribbon trimming the edges, which contrasted nicely with her deep red hair. Before leaving for the ball, Jane had worked Gwen's hair into a beautiful twisting bun, but her hair didn't appreciate the treatment.

Her locks, used to being left down most of the time, didn't seem to like being tied tightly to her scalp, and along with her side bangs, several stray hairs escaped and curled around her face.

This was Gwen's second ball, and she knew the dances fairly well, and was happy to dance with one of the boys from town when he asked. After politely curtsying, yet another thing she was reluctantly getting used to, she returned to Charlotte and Jane.

"You were enjoying yourself," Charlotte observed with a grin. Gwen nodded in agreement, laughing happily as she sat down between her friends. She found the dances here much more enjoyable than the ones back home. No grinding, or fist bumping, just a good time. Gayle, the partier that she was, would have most enjoyed the wine, but Gwen wasn't big into alcohol, and would only have a glass or two before switching to water.

"I'm going to be surprised if Mr. Bingley doesn't fall in love with you the moment he sets his eyes on you. The rest of the men in here certainly are." Jane only smiled softly and shook her head. Gwen's face broke into a grin, and she elbowed the older girl in the ribs.

"If they aren't then I'm no judge of beauty."

"Or men," Jane laughed. Gwen sighed. Even by the standards set on girls from her day and age, Jane was quite beautiful, but she was a modest woman, and refused to recognize it.

"I keep telling you, men are surprisingly easy to judge!"

"They're not all bad," Jane insisted, eyes scanning the room.

"Bah! They all want the same thing," Gwen laughed.

"One of these days, Gwen, someone will catch your eye, then you'll have to watch your tongue," Jane said, looking at Gwen expectantly. The red-head sighed in amusment, rolled her eyes, and turned her attention to the room. Kitty and Lydia were dancing, giggling at each other as they spun past, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Except Mary, but Mary didn't like balls. Gwen wasn't even sure the girl knew what fun meant. Her contemplations of how to get her fellow pianist to break out of her shell were broken when the doors opened, and all activity in the building came to a halt.

They all stood up to get a look at the new arrivals. There were three people in the doorway, two of whom looked as cheerful as if they were going to a funeral.

The man on the right looked cheerful enough, his poofy red hair, along with slightly goofy smile made her think of Ron Weasley from the Harry Potter series. Harry Potter. Another thing she missed from her old life, as she was coming to think of it. The girl on the left had the same red hair as the man on the right, but that's where the similarities ended. She looked like there was a vaguely bad smell in the air, and she was barely tolerating it. She seemed like a snob, but Gwen decided to at least talk to her before passing that judgment. The man in the middle, however, took the cake. His face was almost completely blank of emotion, but what little of it she could see was of the haughty, prideful kind. It looked like he had never smiled a day in his life, a concept foreign to Gwen.

The group made their way down the hall, the way having been cleared down the middle. Everything was eerily quiet as Charlotte's father began leading them up to the top of the room

"So, which one is Mr. Bingley?" Gwen quietly asked Charlotte, and her friend tiptoed to her ear so she could whisper.

"To the right, and the one on the left is his sister."

"And the one in the middle with the pained look on his face, I'm assuming he's Mr. Darcy?"

"I'd say so. I forgot to tell you, he owns half of Derbyshire."

"The gloomy half?" Gwen giggled. He really was quite good looking, clean shaven, with wide shoulders and a strong jaw line. She would have considered him handsome if he didn't look so serious. Already thinking of Gayle, she resolved to make a 'why so serious?' joke at some point, just for her curly-haired friend.

The fancily dressed group was almost level with Gwen, Jane, and Charlotte, and Gwen lowered her eyes respectfully as she curtsied. As she was looking back up, she saw Mr. Darcy's eyes snap back to looking towards the end of the hall, and after a few seconds, was unable to hold back a giggle. She assumed he had been looking at Jane, but had quickly corrected his wandering gaze.

They reached the top of the hall, and everything was still silent. If it had been her at the top of the room while everyone looked on in silence, she would have been embarrassed, but Mr. Bingley kept smiling, his sister kept snobbing, and Mr. Darcy kept impasiving.

The music started back up, and everyone went back to their dancing and conversations.

The three girls were laughing together at the scene when Mrs. Bennet appeared in front of them and all but dragged herself and Jane towards the front of the room. Gwen was surprised she didn't wrench her other two daughters away from dancing, but she figured that would be the height of rudeness.

"I'm not going alone," Gwen hissed to Charlotte, grabbing her friend's hand and dragging her along too. The Bennet's and Gwen were lined up in front of the Fancies, as Gwen had decided to call them only moments after being snatched up by Mrs. Bennet. Mr. Bennet was close behind them, and caught Gwen's eye with a smirk. Gwen turned her attention back to the matter at hand, and smiled faintly at the slightly imposing trio. She decided that while Mr. Darcy was definitely one of the most attractive men she had seen, besides Ryan Reynolds (but who could compare to him?), he definitely seemed to be the most grumpy person she had ever set eyes on. Maybe he had had a bad day.

"Mr. Bingley," Charlotte's dad started introductions. "My eldest daughter you know," Charlotte curtsied. "Mrs. Bennet, Miss Jane Bennet, Mary Bennet, and Miss Gwendolyn Yardley," Each one curtsied politely with each of their names.

"It is a pleasure. I have two others, but they're already dancing," Mrs. Bennet explained.

"I'm delighted to make your acquaintance," Mr. Bingley said, looking as though he were. His eyes, while they had taken them all in in turn, kept flicking back to Jane, who hadn't seemed to notice. Gwen had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, and Jane shot her a bemused look. Gwen was only able to stop herself when Mr. Lucas introduced Caroline Bingley.

"Charmed," She said pleasantly enough, but Gwen could tell what Charlotte meant when she said there was more to the woman. She made her think of an arctic fox, her eyes and body language saying things her words did not.

"And may I introduce Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire." The group politely curtsied once more, but the tall man remained stoic. He seemed to be looking over their heads, and Gwen's snob-radar, already set off by Caroline Bingley, clicked a notch higher.

The group stayed nearby, Jane, Gwen and Mr. Bingley began talking, and he soon asked Jane to dance, which she gladly agreed to. Gwen winked at her as she went by, scarcely able to restrain a cat call, but managed it. They were absolutely adorable together. He got all flustered when he thought he had said the wrong thing, and tried to cover it up, and Jane was all sweet smiles, and Gwen could tell she liked him. She almost gagged.

Mary had quickly fled the scene for the wall, Miss Bingley had been engaged in a conversation with a woman from Meryton Gwen wasn't familiar with, and Charlotte and Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were talking at the other end of the hall, leaving Gwen alone with Mr. Darcy. He was an imposing man to stand beside. While she was tall, almost six feet, Mr. Darcy towered at least five inches over her. Gwen felt compelled to break the silence after a moment.

"Do you dance, Mr. Darcy?" He glanced at her, then quickly looked away.

"Not if I can help it." His rejection stung a bit, but she decided it was his loss. She found his voice very attractive, though. Maybe she was a sucker for deep voices and big shoulders. She brushed it off, shrugged internally, and left Mr. Darcy's moody company in favour of Charlotte's.

"I didn't know you were coming to see me!" The other woman exclaimed, pleased to see her friend. "What's the matter?" She asked light-heartedly.

"Mr. Darcy is a snob!" Gwen announced, smirking at her friend. She glanced towards the man in question, whose attention was engaged by Bingley's sister. "That, or he has social anxiety problems. He didn't want to dance with me!" Charlotte gasped in only partial astonishment.

"How dare he?" she said with a laugh. The two continued chatting for a bit, about Jane and Mr. Bingley, who seemed to be hitting it off, and might soon become the most nauseatingly cute couple ever, and about Mrs. Bennet's obsession with marrying off her girls. The pair of them had slipped behind the stairs leading to the players' balcony to steal a moment of peace from the loud chaos of the ball when Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy stopped in front of them.

"I've never seen so many pretty girls in my life!" Mr. Bingley said, and Gwen smiled at his enthusiasm. She hoped that he and Jane would end up together, if only because their personalities seemed so similar, and he appeared to be someone almost anyone could get along with.

"You were dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," Mr. Darcy countered, his harsh opinion clashing with his friend's more open one. Mr. Bingley, however, seemed undeterred by his friend's rudeness.

"She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld. But her friend, Gwendolyn, is very agreeable." The smile already on Gwen's face grew wider at his words, but faltered slightly when she heard what Mr. Darcy had to say about her.

"Perfectly tolerable, I dare say, though not handsome enough to tempt me. Return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, you're wasting your time with me."

Gwen lowered her head as the two men walked off, Mr. Bingley frowning slightly at his friend before his usual smile fell back in place. Mr. Darcy was a jerk! She resolved then and there to not like him unless he pulled a total reversal and showed some sort of redeeming quality.

"Count your blessings, Gwen. If he liked you, you'd have to talk to him," Charlotte said a moment later, trying to cheer Gwen up. She succeeded in making Gwen snort with laughter.\, though she knew Gwen was still hurt.

"True. Anyway, I wouldn't dance with him now for all of Derbyshire, let alone the gloomy half." Resolving to have a good night, and putting what Mr. Darcy said out of her mind. She danced with several boys from town, slowly recovering her hurt pride. Mr. Darcy, she observed, hadn't left his wall with Miss Bingley all night, which left her with a sense of smug satisfaction she should have been ashamed of.

In between dances, Jane tugged gently on her sleeve.

"Help me," She whispered. "Mama wants to talk to Mr. Bingley, and I don't want to be by myself!" Her eyes were wide, and Gwen grinned and nodded, coming along with her adoptive sister. She had seen Charlotte dancing with Bingley, but the man, while definitely enjoying his dance with her friend, had hardly taken his eyes off Jane, which was sweet enough to make Gwen want to gag. Love at First Sight, while nice in its own right, seemed ridiculous to her.

"Your friend Miss Lucas is a most amusing young woman," Bingley laughed good naturedly. Much to Gwen's chagrin, Mr. Darcy had joined their group, with Miss Bingley only a few feet behind him, thus completing the tri-force of Fancies.

"Oh yes, she's the most wonderful person to be around," Gwen said, smiling at the red-haired man. In Gwen's eyes, only Gayle was a better friend, and she knew she was definitely biased about that, but she knew that if she could see one person from her old life again, it would certainly be Gayle.

"It's a pity she's not more handsome," Mrs. Bennet proclaimed loudly, fanning herself with her pale yellow fan.

"Mrs. Bennet!" Gwen said sharply, defensive of her friend, who, while not the beauty of the ball, was certainly not the most unattractive girls she had ever met.

"Oh, but Gwen would never admit that she's plain. It's my Jane who's considered the beauty of the county."

"Mama, please," Jane interjected, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at her mother's words, but she was quickly talked over.

"When she was only fifteen, a gentleman was so much in love with her, I was sure he would make her an offer. However, he did write her some very pretty verse." Gwen couldn't understand why Mrs. Bennet would bring something like that up in front of a gentleman interested in her daughter. She supposed she was trying to provide a sense of urgency to Mr. Bingley's thoughts, and that he would have to work quickly if he was as taken with her as he seemed. To Gwen, it just seemed plain rude.

Sensing Jane's embarrassment, Gwen put a hand on Mrs. Bennet's arm to hush her.

"And that ended it," She said, turning her attention to Mr. Bingley. "I wonder who first discovered the power of poetry to end a romance," She said, smiling at the man as she clasped her hands in front of her.

"I thought poetry was the food of love," Mr. Darcy interjected, drawing Gwen's attention. His eyes were deep brown, she noticed for the first time, and it seemed to her they would express his emotions clearly if he would allow them.

"If the love it true, it may. But if not, I believe it would kill any hopes of love at all." She expected him to leave it at that, but he didn't break eye contact.

"So what do you recommend to encourage affection?" His eyes widened in shock at his own words, but, with a glance at Mr. Bingley, quickly recomposed his features. Gwen was taken off guard by the question, but quickly collected herself and smiled sweetly.

"Dancing."

Mr. Darcy's impassive mask was broken once more, and she could have sworn she saw a slight flush on his cheeks. The music started up, and Gwen curtsied, a large smile plastered on her face as she turned and walked briskly to where she knew Charlotte was with her parents.

"I think it's safe to say he's already in love with you, the poor sap," Gwen laughed, pulling a baggy band shirt over her head. Whenever she had the chance to wear her old clothes, she was always amazed at how loose they had become. Probably due to the fact that the food here was healthier, and didn't have preservatives or other chemicals mixed in. Barely eating anything when she first arrived most likely had something to do with it as well.

"Mr. Bingley is just what a young man ought to be," Jane said, sitting on the edge of her bed in her nightgown, a small smile on her face, dreamy look in her eyes. "Sensible, good-humoured-"

Gwen flopped on the bed, her head resting comfortably on her soft feather pillow, grinning at Jane, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Handsome, conveniently rich..."

"You know perfectly well I do not believe marriage should be driven by thoughts of money," Jane said, but laughing at Gwen's words none the less.

The blonde lay down as well, tucking her legs under the covers in a graceful motion.

"Agreed. I don't think anyone should have to marry for money. The only way I'd _ever_ get married would be if I found someone I loved one hundred percent!" She didn't like thinking about it, but Gwen knew that if she couldn't find a way to make the lockets take her home, she would have to live her life here. It wasn't so bad at Longbourn, and she did like Jane, the other Bennets, and Charlotte immensely, but she still hoped for a way home. "And that, my friend," Gwen said, pulling the covers over herself. "Is why I will end up alone with a bunch of cats as my only company."

"You will not!" Jane assured, taking a moment to adjust her nightgown before posing her next question. "Do you really believe he liked me, Gwen?"

Gwen grinned at her. Jane could be so blind sometimes. "He danced with you most of the night, and he couldn't take his eyes off you for the rest. Don't worry so much! Besides, you've liked many people much less cheerful than him." Gwen finished with a laugh.

"Gwen," Jane said, slightly exasperated, but laughing as well.

"You like people to easily, you know? The way you see it, everyone is good and honourable." Gwen's thoughts couldn't help but flash towards Greg, but she quickly turned her thoughts towards safer areas.

"Not his friend! I still can't believe what he said about you."

"Mr. Darcy?" Jane nodded. Gwen smirked at the thought of the prideful man. "Well, I could have gotten over his ego if he hadn't dragged me into his discussion." Thinking of what he had said about her drew a frown onto her face before she quickly shrugged it off. "Oh well. I don't think we'll ever speak again." The two lay in silence for a moment before Gwen burst into laughter at Jane, who still had that dreamy, lovesick look on her face.

Before blowing out the candles, Gwen picked up a book that Mr. Bennet had lent her from his library, and read a couple pages. Reading was second in her list of favorite things to do, second only to playing the piano, which she had to fight Mary for, and followed by drawing, which she did quite often. Her sleep that night was peaceful and dreamless, un-tormented by the nightmare.

Gwen opened Jane's letter, sitting on the stairs to the kitchen. She could hardly believe that Mrs. Bennet had sent her eldest daughter on horseback into such a rainstorm, and was sure Jane would be drenched and half dead when she arrived at Netherfield.

"'And my kind friends will not hear of me returning home until I am better - but do not be alarmed. Excepting a sore throat, a fever, and a headache there is nothing wrong with me'." She read, her annoyance mounting. If Mrs. Bennet had just sent Jane in the carriage, then the woman she had come to think of as her sister wouldn't be so terribly ill. "This is ridiculous!" she said in exasperation.

"Well, my dear, if your daughter does die, it will be a comfort to know it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley," Mr. Bennet said dryly, wiping his hands on a slightly dirty rag.

Mrs. Bennet tutted. "People do not die of colds."

"But she might die from the shame of having you for a mother," Gwen scoffed, smirking at Mrs. Bennet's turned back. She heard Mr. Bennet chuckle behind her as he wandered off to attend to one duty or another.

"I am going to see her," Gwen announced, placing Jane's letter on the kitchen table.

All the long way to Netherfield, Gwen muttered darkly about pushy mothers who couldn't leave well-enough alone. She saw Mrs. Bennet as a bit of an embarrassment. Even though she meant well, she never failed to make a situation awkward, or add small, unnecessary facts to a conversation. She only wanted what she thought what was best for her daughters, but she was so pushy about it.

Eventually, Netherfield came into sight, and Gwen stopped to admire the large building. She had seen the mansion before when Mrs. Bennet insisted that they take the long way into town one day. It was an impressive mansion, with swooping stone arches, an expansive front lawn, and what appeared to be a gorgeous garden in the back.

Gwen took a deep breath, and continued towards the imposing building.

* * *

**AN: Hope you liked it! As long as school doesn't get absolutely insane, I'll try to keep to a regular scedule of posting. Please review. It's really pathetic, but I need encouragment to keep writting .**


	3. Why so Serious?

**AN: Thank you guys so much for all the reviews! You're all awesome :D I didn't realize until now, but in the previous chapters my underscores that showed a time skip weren't appearing, so I fixed it in this one. At one point, probably when I'm finished the story, I'll update the first to chaps so they look right :D**

**Also. I forgot my disclaimers. I'm bad. **

**I don't own anything in this story except Gwendolyn! She's mine :) Bahahaha**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

The doorman who answered Gwen's knock seemed rather taken aback by her appearance, and she glanced down at herself before smiling brightly at the fancily dressed man. Her shoes and dress hem were extremely muddy, her hair, secured only in a half ponytail, was a bit frizzier than normal. She could feel her face, already bright red from walking, light up more with embarrassment.

"How can I help you, miss...?" The doorman, his face clearly expressing his disapproval, asked, looking as though he wished only to turn her away.

"I'm here to see Jane," Gwen said, smile faltering at his coldness. "I'm Gwendolyn Yardley. I live with the Bennets..."

"This way," The doorman said coldly. Gwen knew that manners required him to show her to one of the masters of the house before he could show her to Jane, and followed the man without complaint. The mansion was as lavish inside as it was outside, the entryway huge with a large staircase curving up to the second floor, tapestries and paintings adorning the wall.

The doorman led her to a set of large, gilded doors, and motioned for her to wait while he stepped inside the room. She almost made a quip along the lines that she knew how to behave in society, but refrained, choosing to be amused at his condescending nature rather than offended.

"Miss Gwendolyn Yardley," She heard the doorman say, and took her cue to enter the room. Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley were seated at a small round table in the middle of the golden room, breakfast laid out in front of them. They were flanked by two servants, who looked incredibly bored, as she would be if her life revolved around attending to rich snobs' needs. Gwen was good at seeing past most people's faults, but snobs were one of the types of people she could not tolerate. While Mr. Bingley was nice enough, the two Fancies in front of her seemed to be of the overly snotty variety, though she would reserve that judgement for later. Mr. Darcy belatedly stood up, seeming to remember the courtesy that Gwen found slightly over the top. She smiled and curtsied politely to the two of them.

"Good lord, Miss Gwendolyn, did you walk here?" Caroline Bingley asked, looking like she wanted to laugh at Gwen's appearance.

"I did," Gwen replied, her smile cooling. She didn't like being talked down to. After a moment of silence, it was clear that no one was going to say anything else. "I'm sorry, how is Jane?"

"She's upstairs," Mr. Darcy said quickly. Gwen wasn't sure if his quick reply was from wanting to get her out of the room as quickly as possible, or some other reason. "Alfred will be more than happy to show you the way." The doorman stiffened at his words, but inclined his head to her, showing that he would indeed take her to Jane.

"Thank you." Gwen hesitated, noticing Mr. Darcy seemed about to say something else, leaning slightly forward on the balls of his feet, but he didn't, so she politely curtsied, glancing over her shoulder at him on the way out. While she was still wounded about what he had said the night before, but he didn't really seem as bad as she first thought him to be. He was still an insufferable snob, but there was something in his eyes that made her think there was more to him than what was on the surface. But, it was possible that she was totally misreading him, having proven to herself that she wasn't as infallible at judging people as she once thought. As she followed the stiff-backed doorman up the stairs, she pondered the mystery of Mr. Darcy.

"Miss Yardley! How good to see you!" Exclaimed Mr. Bingley, who was descending the stairs, presumably to join his sister and friend for their late breakfast. The orange haired man stopped and bowed slightly, which Gwen returned a curtsy. Like herself, Charles Bingley always seemed to have a smile on his face.

"How is she?" Gwen asked, and Mr. Bingley's face lit up. He was clearly happy that Jane was here, though she doubted that her illness was what made him cheerful.

"She has a violent cold, but we shall get the better of it. I will have a bed made up for you, you must be our guest here until Jane recovers," He insisted cheerfully. Gwen tried her best to protest, insisting that she couldn't possibly impose, but he eventually won the argument, and she agreed to stay. Alfred was waiting at the top of the stairs, his face impassive. Gwen stifled a chuckle at him, and followed him to the door of what she assumed was a guest room.

"Thank you," She said, shooting the doorman a slightly sarcastic smile, and he bowed stoically before turning and heading back downstairs.

Gwen knocked softly on the wood before swinging the door open. "Jane?"

"Gwen?" Came the weak reply. Gwen smiled and opened the door all the way and stepped into the room, striding to Jane's side.

She placed a hand on her forehead as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Gee, you weren't kidding about the fever, I think you burned me!" Gwen teased, snatching her hand back. This drew a faint smile from Jane.

"They're so kind to me. I feel like such a terrible imposition."

Gwen smirked, brushing Jane's hair from her face so it was no longer in her way. "I don't know whether your mother or Mr. Bingley is more pleased at you being here," She laughed. They talked for a bit, about the book Gwen was currently reading at home, how Jane was feeling, and various other trivial matters when there was a knock at the door, and Mr. Bingley entered, smiling apologetically at the two.

"Thank you so much for taking care of Jane," Gwen smiled, noticing the way his eyes went straight to Jane, his smile getting brighter. She almost gagged at the sweetness of it all.

"It's a pleasure." His face suddenly turned bright red, and Gwen noticed it was mostly his ears that did so. "I mean, it's not a pleasure that she's ill. It's a pleasure that she's here... being ill."

Gwen had to restrain her giggles at his flustered behaviour. They were turning into the most nauseatingly cute couple she had ever encountered.

* * *

"This library is amazing," She informed Mr. Bingley as she ran a finger over the soft leather tomes. The large room was filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves brimming with books. The smell of paper and leather, with the underlying aroma of flowers from the various vases scattered around the room made it the most attractive in the house to Gwen. The smell of paper was a familiar one from many hours volunteering in her local library at home, and had many pleasant, warm afternoon memories spent reading on the hammock on her parents deck attached to it.

"Thank you, Miss Gwendolyn," Bingley said cheerfully. "I rarely have the time to read, and my sister does not have the patience for it, so if you would like to borrow one or two, please feel free. It would be good for them to get some use."

Gwen grinned at him as she ran a finger along the titles of the books, finally choosing one called _The Fool of Quality _by Henry Brooke, and followed Mr. Bingley to the drawing room, where Miss Bingley was pacing restlessly about the room, and Mr. Darcy was writing at a small desk. Both looked up at their entrance, but quickly went back to their activities. Gwen settled herself on one of the two facing couches, Mr. Bingley on the other, and opened her book.

While she found more enjoyment in reading the two worn paperbacks that were in her pack, she found the complex language of the books in the seventeen hundreds challenging in a very good way, and voraciously read almost anything she could get her hands on.

She was a few pages into _The Fool of Quality_ when Caroline Bingley started speaking.

"You write uncommonly fast, Mr. Darcy." Her simpering tone was what made Gwen look up, and she saw the strawberry blonde woman leaning rudely over Darcy's shoulder. The scratch of his quill, which had filled the air seconds before was stilled a moment before continuing. Gwen was amused that he didn't even spare her a glance when she was so clearly trying to draw his attention to herself. She had noticed that Caroline wore her necklines lower than anyone else she had met, and while it was nothing compared to what she had seen in high school or at various clubs she had been to, it was very unusual to see someone from this day and age in something that revealing.

"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly," Mr. Darcy replied, his attention firmly on the paper in front of him. Gwen smirked as she turned back to the book, picking up on his obvious dislike of Caroline, who didn't seem to get the message.

"How many letters you should have occasion to write, Mr. Darcy. And letters of business too, how odious I should think them."

"It is fortunate, then, that they should fall to my lot instead of yours," He said calmly, but there was an edge of slight annoyance to his voice now that was unmistakable. Gwen was only half paying attention to her book now, finding the Fancies much more entertaining.

"Please tell your sister that I long to see her." The woman didn't get the clue, but plowed on instead, making Gwen roll her eyes to herself as she glanced up at the two. The woman was no longer hovering over Mr. Darcy's shoulder, but she had extended her hand, running it along the wood of the chair as she slowly wandered around the desk.

"I have already told her once, by your desire." Darcy said, annoyance clearly audible now.

"I do dote on her. I was quite in raptures at her beautiful little design for a table." Gwen smirked across at Mr. Bingley, who looked slightly exasperated at his sister, then smiled across at Gwen.

"Perhaps you will give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again. At present I have not enough room to do them justice." Gwen stifled a laugh, drawing a sharp glance from Caroline. She could have been mistaken, but while Mr. Darcy didn't lift his gaze from the paper in front of him, she could have sworn she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. When she glanced at him again, however, the impassive look was back.

"It's amazing you young ladies have the patience to be so accomplished," Mr. Bingley interjected, drawing his sister's eyes from glaring at Gwen.

"What do you mean, Charles?"

"You all paint tables, play the piano, and embroider cushions!" He said, drawing a smirk from Gwen. Maybe 'young ladies' were so accomplished because this archaic society expected nothing of them except a good marriage. The women got bored, and took up hobbies, which became common practice, and boom! Bar raised. "I have never heard of a young lady but people say she is accomplished."

Gwen's book, long forgotten, lay open on her lap as she watched the goings on with keen interest. These people were so different from the Bennets and the townsfolk she had grown to know. Their speech much more eloquent, the way they held themselves straighter, with a sort of dignity that she hadn't seen before. Even Mr. Bingley, cheerful and friendly as a shaggy English Sheepdog, held himself differently from the other townsfolk. She guessed that if they were dressed in rags, they would still stand apart in a crowd, Gwen thought, then immediately had to cover a laugh with a cough at the thought of Mr. Darcy or Caroline Bingley so much as touching clothes made of inferior quality.

"The word is indeed applied too liberally. I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen women in my acquaintance who are truly accomplished," Mr. Darcy said.

"Nor I, too be sure," Caroline said, that eager to please tone back in her voice. Gwen wondered if it grated on Mr. Darcy's nerves as much as it did on hers.

"And what exactly constitutes a young lady, Mr. Darcy? I'm assuming you understand a lot on this matter?" Gwen asked, her bright blue eyes twinkling with humor as the somber man turned his attention to her, looking up from his writing for the first time since she entered.

"I do." He looked back to his paper as Caroline interrupted.

"Absolutely! She must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages to deserve such a word," the woman said as she strode around the room, making Gwen think of a prowling tigress looking for her next victim. "And something in her air, and manner of walking..."

"And, of course, she must improve her mind by extensive reading," Mr. Darcy added. Gwen was suddenly conscious of the open book on her lap, and closed it with a decisive snap, setting it down on the cushion beside her.

"I'm not surprised any more that you only know six women considered accomplished. In fact, I'm extremely surprised you know any." Mr. Darcy looked up, holding her eyes for the first time since the ball.

"Are you so severe on your own sex?"

"I've never met a woman like that. She'd be a fearsome thing to see," Gwen smiled, her remark drawing a laugh from Mr. Bingley. Gwen was distracted from the staring contest she seemed to have been having with Mr. Darcy when Miss Bingley stepped between them.

"Miss Gwendolyn, let us take a turn about the room." Surprised, Gwen looked up at the woman, who had a smile on her face, but it seemed far from genuine, as her eyes looked hard and calculating.

"Okay," Gwen shrugged, her smile firmly in place, which seemed to slightly confuse the other woman. Caroline Bingley took Gwen's arm and wrapped it around her own, so they were strolling about the room linked. Gwen thought it was all rather ridiculous, walking around a room. If you were going to walk, you might as well go outside.

"Refreshing, is it not, after sitting so long in one attitude?"

Gwen's smile grew, finding the whole charade rather silly. "It's a small sort of accomplishment, I guess," She smirked.

"Will you not join us, Mr. Darcy?" Miss Bingley asked, making Gwen roll her eyes once more.

"You can only have two motives, Caroline, and I will not interfere with either." Gwen raised a brow at Mr. Darcy's broad back as she and Caroline walked around behind him.

"What ever can he mean?" Caroline asked teasingly, and Gwen found herself giving the other woman a genuine smile.

"The easiest way to disappoint him would be not to ask," Gwen replied, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

Caroline turned her attention back to the somber man. "Do tell us, Mr. Darcy."

He stopped writing, glancing over his shoulder at the two. "Either you are in each others' confidence and have... secret affairs to discuss, or you are conscious your figures appear to the greatest advantage by walking." That drew a quiet chuckle from Gwen. "If the first, I shall get in your way. If the second, I can admire you much better from here."

Gwen laughed softly, thinking the man could only be talking about Caroline, for she knew that he had no interest in her. Mr. Bingley, still on his couch, snort-laughed, as Gwen's aunt was fond of calling it, and Gwen shot him a grin.

"Shocking," Caroline said, coy smile twitching at her lips. "How shall we punish him for such a speech?"

"We could laugh at him," Gwen suggested, smiling innocently at Mr. Darcy as he shot her a look of exasperation.

"Oh no, Mr. Darcy is not to be teased," Caroline chided. Gwen disentangled herself from the other woman and stood in front of Mr. Darcy's desk, hands resting on the polished wood.

"Are you too proud, Mr. Darcy? Do you consider pride a fault, or a virtue?"

"That I couldn't say." Gwen was struck again by how good looking he was, but the tough, cold part of her mind that took over when Greg hurt her asserted itself. It was the part that took cheerful, smiling Gwen and coated her in iron, so she couldn't be hurt. _He said you were too ugly for him_, that part of her whispered, and her smile faltered a bit, before it came back.

"We're trying to find a fault in you," She said, eyes twinkling with humor, actively suppressing the part that wanted to make her cold. She truly didn't want to be rude. Even if these people weren't too fond of her, she wanted to put her best foot forward, if only for the Bennet's sake.

"Maybe it's that I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others," Mr. Darcy said, not looking directly in her eyes, but more at her forehead, Gwen thought. Was there something on her face? Internally, she made a face at him. "Or their offences against me. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever."

Gwen frowned slightly. "I can't tease you about that. What a shame; laughing is one of my favorite things to do."

"Something you share with the Bennets, I think," Caroline said, glancing at Mr. Darcy to gage his reaction. The man simply looked put-out. Gwen, recognizing the tactless jab at the people who had taken care of her, smiled icily at the woman and returned to her couch to continue reading. After a moment, Mr. Bingley cleared his throat, and Gwen glanced up.

"I have been meaning to ask you, Miss Gwendolyn. Please don't take offence, but I was wondering where you get your accent from," He looked at her apprehensively, thinking he may have offended her, but Gwen merely smiled and softly shut her book on the piece of ribbon she was using as a bookmark.

"No offence taken," Gwen said, going over the story she and Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had fabricated. "My parents were Scottish," Accounted for the red hair and copious freckles. "But they were constantly moving around, and that didn't change when they had me. I suppose that no one particular accent set in, so I talk like this." It was a flimsy story, but no one she had told it to so far had questioned it. Caroline narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but she didn't say anything, and her brother happily nodded. Gwen glanced to Mr. Darcy, but he seemed to be absorbed in his writing.

"Do you play the pianoforte, Miss Gwendolyn?" Caroline asked a minute later, eyes darting from Mr. Darcy's turned back to Gwen on the couch across from her.

"Yes, but not many songs you would know," Gwen said. While she had been working on learning the much more complex songs from the seventeenth century, she wasn't good enough at them yet to be comfortable playing them for an audience. The songs she knew from home, while she loved them, and was good at them, were probably not the caliber that the Fancies were used to.

Too late, Gwen realized that what she said could be construed as an insult, that Caroline was not learned enough to know the songs Gwen could play. That wasn't what she had meant of course, only that the songs she could play well hadn't been written yet.

"I must insist you play them for us," Caroline said, her eyes cold. She had picked up on Gwen's unintentional insult, and Gwen winced internally. Whoops.

"Yes, please do!" Mr. Bingley said enthusiastically, completely missing the two women's exchange. Gwen inclined her head, showing her willingness to oblige. "Come, Darcy, Miss Gwendolyn is going to play the pianoforte for us!"

Mr. Darcy sighed and set down his pen. "Yes, Charles. I am right here. My ears work perfectly adequately, thank you."

The group moved to the massive living room, full of landscape art, large, cushy chairs covered in rich fabric, and an unlit fireplace. The room was dominated by a beautiful pianoforte, which Gwen sat at, back to the rest of the room, while the rest took seats on the many chairs and couches in the room.

Gwen rested her fingers on the keys, and tried to decide what to play. Settling on _Stand_ by Rascal Flatts, since she was already thinking about it, she closed her eyes and started playing. Her childhood music teacher, an older woman named Francine, had taught her the basic notes, and how to play in general, but it was her grade nine Band teacher who had showed her how to feel music. Whenever Gwen started playing, she would close her eyes and let the music flow from the notes in her head, through her body, to her fingers, which seemed to dance on the keys. It was a Zen place for her. She smiled to herself and opened her eyes, continuing to play.

She could hear Caroline trying her best to engage Mr. Darcy in a conversation, but Gwen could hear no response from him. Mr. Bingley could then be heard taking pity on his friend and trying to distract his sister, which, after a moment, succeeded.

Gwen smiled to herself, and transitioned smoothly into _Dare to Believe _by Boyce Avenue when _Stand_ finished. She hummed softly along to the tune, and glanced over her shoulder.

Mr. Bingley and his sister seemed to be debating the merits of redecorating ones house in the 'french style,' whatever that meant, on the cushy chairs next to the unlit fire. Mr. Darcy had moved to the window, quite close to her, really, and seemed to be deep in thought, looking over the view from Netherfield, hands clasped behind his back. It was then that Gwen remembered that she was going to quote Heath Ledger at him.

Her smile grew, and she cleared her throat, drawing his attention.

"Why so serious?"

"Pardon me?" Mr. Darcy 's brow furrowed in confusion.

"I was just wondering if you ever smile," Gwen said, reaching the end of her song and letting her fingers rest idly on the keys. "If you hadn't noticed, I really don't stop, and it's difficult for me to think that there's anyone who doesn't."

Mr. Darcy's face remained impassive, but he seemed interested in their conversation.

"I do not find many things that compel me to smile, Miss Gwendolyn. It is easier for me to view the world as it is, not as a reservoir for hope and happiness."Gwen scrunched up her nose, a habit she had developed when someone said something she didn't agree with.

"But there's so much to enjoy! I mean, I know people in general kind of suck, but there are so many other things to distract you from the general..." She struggled to find a word. "suck-i-tude of humanity." Mr. Darcy raised an eyebrow at 'suck-i-tude,' but didn't comment. He opened his mouth to say something when Caroline seemed to apparate at his side and linked her arm with his.

"Shall we go take tea in the dining room? I fear this room is becoming rather stuffy." The large area was definitely not stuffy, and Mr. Darcy shot her a look, subtly disengaging himself from her grip.

"Tea sounds lovely," Gwen said, eyes shooting between the two.

* * *

"Jane?"

"I'm awake," Came Jane's quiet voice, and Gwen swung the door open all the way, and entered the room. One of the many servants had set up a small cot for her under the window; it looked surprisingly comfortable considering it was a make-shift sleeping arrangement.

"You aren't allowed to stay sick any more. It's decided," Gwen said, sitting down on the edge of Jane's bed and putting a hand on her forehead. "You feeling any better? I came to check on you in between tea and supper, but you were asleep."

"I'm fine," Jane said in exasperation, softly swatting Gwen's hand away. "Why am I not 'allowed to stay sick any more'?"

Gwen sighed, resting her head in her hand. "Well, one, being sick isn't good, and two, I don't know how much longer I can be around your boyfriend's sister! She's like a sadistic cat! Always pouncing on everything that shows the slightest sign of having a flaw!"

Jane smiled softly. "Didn't like your piano playing?" Gwen mock frowned at the blonde before her face broke out into a grin again.

"Well, she managed to find several flaws in it, like how I held my hands, but that's not the point! She somehow found a way to criticize everything I do, all while looking for approval from Mr. Darcy. Also, I would like to reassert that he is a grump." An amused smile was playing about Jane's lips, but she made no comment.

The topic of discussion turned to how Jane was feeling, then Gwen reluctantly got changed into a nightgown that Caroline had provided, and the pair quickly fell asleep.

* * *

To Mr. Darcy, Gwendolyn Yardley was a conundrum. Lying awake in the bed the Bingley's had provided him with, he was prevented from sleep by the laughing blue eyes that flashed in his vision each time he shut his lids. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, hoping, eventually, his body would succumb to the pull of sleep, but to no avail.

It was illogical that the woman he had met three nights ago was so prominent in his mind. What made it worse was that she was not of the same social status as him, and, as his father had lectured him before he died, a Darcy did not marry someone lower than himself.

Still. There was something alluring about her laugh, her constant smile, her dancing eyes. He had found it surprisingly nice when his comment to Caroline had made he laugh.

He rolled over, trying to turn his mind to other thoughts.

She wasn't bad looking, he would grant her that. Her nose was a little too small for her face, every visible part of her coated in freckles, but her hair was an amazing deep red and her figure was quite nice. He hadn't been able to help noticing that when Caroline, insufferable as she was, had insisted on parading the other woman around the room. And he liked her freckles.

This could get dangerous, and he resolved to distance himself from her in the hopes that his common sense would override his sudden fancies.

Frustrated with himself for being unable to rid himself of visions of the strange, overly optimistic woman, Mr. Darcy attempted to turn his thoughts to his sister, Charles, anything. It was a futile pursuit however, and he fell asleep with her laugh echoing in his ears and a genuine smile on his lips.

* * *

**AN: So I for sure won't be able to get a chapter uploaded this Thursday because of school D: or next Tuesday because it's Rodeo Weekend and my life is crazy . I'm sorry!  
**

**Please review :D**


	4. Creepy Collins

**A/N: I'M SORRY! I meant to update sooner, but all my teachers decided it was time to start finals prep, and I almost died under all the homework -_-**

**Anyway, I should be able to go back to a regular schedule next week, but I won't be able to post until then, if I'm even able to post THEN. *facepalm* I don't like school...**

**Hope you like the chapter! Review please!**

* * *

It was the next day that Jane was well enough to get out of the small guest room, and she thoroughly enjoyed being up and about again after being in bed for so long. Mr. Bingley seemed inseparable from her side, and Gwen wondered if they had suddenly become Siamese twins attached at the hip or something. They wandered the gardens, strolled through the house, and would have sat in the same chair, had it been socially acceptable.

This, of course, left Gwen with a choice. She could be a third wheel and tag along on their merry adventures through Young-and-in-Love-Ville, or she could be in the company of Clingy Caroline and Morose Mr. Darcy. She chose the third, less-sociable option and holed up on a comfy chair in the drawing room, or outside in the backyard with a book.

Netherfield was a beautiful place, and she really wished she had her sketchbook so she could go to the garden and draw, but she didn't, so she immersed herself in printed adventures with clear endings and easy to understand plots.

The stories had a purpose, a beginning and an ending between two leather covers. They were meant to impart a message, to convey something to the reader. This was something she was familiar with, having been an avid reader at home. And while the familiar sensation of knowing which way was up and down with a book in her hands, it also reminded her of how she lacked that sort of control over her own life.  
While her life never had a distinct ending in sight, her story had parameters it rarely deviated from. There was a pattern, a routine. Now, she was lucky to know what to expect of the day ahead, let alone a week in advance.

She didn't know how to predict events in this time period. It was all a mystery to her. She never took History Twelve, and her knowledge of this era was sketchy at best. Not to mention the people here reacted differently than they did where she came from, and something that was perfectly innocent in 2012 could very well be a barbed insult in 1797.

Gwen did her best to be polite, but she grew increasingly frustrated with Caroline's constant jabs, and Mr. Darcy's consistent and growing indifference that she wasn't inclined to seek out their company.

It was three days after her arrival at Netherfield that Mrs. Bingley and the rest of her daughters paid the Bingley's a visit, and to collect the two staying with them. Gwen found herself quite embarrassed by Mrs. Bennet's constant fluttering, even though she wasn't related to her, but had to choke back a laugh when she took a bold jab at Mr. Darcy's large ego.

The man had glanced at her, which she replied to with an innocent smile before turning her attention back to the Bennet family. Maybe her suspicions were correct, and there was a different side to him that he didn't let show, but he was being an unpleasant stiff, and she found Mrs. Bennet's lack of a vocal filter amusing when turned in his direction.

"Thank you for your… superb company, Miss Bingley. I learned a lot," Gwen said innocently as she and the other woman headed towards the slightly worn Bennet Family carriage. Snob.

"The pleasure has been all mine," Caroline said, an edge to her voice as well. The two curtsied rather stiffly, and Gwen strode on towards the carriage.

"Mr. Darcy," She said, inclining her head, small smile on her face as she curtsied to the big man. He inclined his head in kind.

"Miss Gwendolyn."

Before she could dwell on how much she liked the way his voice sounded when he said her name, Gwen turned and curtsied to Mr. Bingley before turning to the carriage.

She had just extended her hand to use the hinged door for balance, when suddenly a warm hand was wrapped around hers. Startled, she glanced down and saw that the owner of the hand was Mr. Darcy.

She was struck by how small her hand was in his, and how warm his seemed to be. Maybe males just ran hot. She shot a confused look at him as she sat down and he released her hand, turning on his heel and striding off. She noticed him flexing the hand he had used to help her into the carriage, as if he had touched something dirty, and she made a face at his back, causing Jane, the only one who had seen, to giggle.

All the way back to Longborn, she frowned at the hand Darcy had seemed so disgusted at touching, which lay palm up in her lap, barely paying attention to the conversation around her, which seemed to involve a lot of talk about the army men staying in Meryton.

As soon as they arrived back at Longbourn, Gwen went upstairs to collect her sketchbook for some much needed drawing therapy. She was about to leave for outside, when the corner of a leather-bound book caught her eye from under her nightstand. She crouched and pulled it out, brushing dust off the cover.

"What have we here…?" She muttered to herself, opening the book. It was the journal that Jane had given her a week into her stay. The blonde had thought it would help Gwen if she had something to write her feelings in. Gwen had used it once, then kicked it under the nightstand in frustration. The first page was a list of things she missed from home, and Gwen smiled sadly as she read the list.

Gayle, my family, my friends, my car, electricity, internet, pencil lead, jeans, tank tops, music, TV, my house, my room, Lord of the Rings, my books, acrylic paint, sharpies, plastic anything, my iPod charger, cell service, telephones in general, did I mention jeans? Also chocolate, greasy food, McDonald's French fries, popcorn, and Cheez Whiz. I think I already said this, but I miss jeans.

She tucked the journal under her arm with her sketchbook and went outside.

"Gwen! Isn't it wonderful! They're going to be here all winter!" Lydia squealed, appearing at Gwen's side seemingly by magic, Kitty, as always, not too far behind, giggling up a storm.

Gwen sighed. "I'm assuming you're talking about the… what was it you were talking about when you were trying to get poor Mr. Bingley to hold a ball? Militia?" Lydia nodded frantically.

"Oh please, Gwen, will you take us into town tomorrow, or the day after?" Lydia pleaded.  
"After Mr. Collins is settled?" Kitty added, looking just as hopeful as her sister. Gwen's brows knit in confusion.  
"Who's Mr. Collins?" Lydia's eyes widened in surprise, and she and Kitty exchanged a look before turning their attention back to Gwen.

"That's right, you wouldn't know!"

"Explain while we walk, I'm heading to the swing," Gwen insisted, and the two started telling her who Mr. Collins was on the short walk over.

"Mr. Collins is our cousin! We've never met him, but he is to inherit Longbourn when Papa dies," Lydia said, and Gwen shot her a look of confusion as the young girl sat on the swing they had just reached.

"Even though your father has four daughters, his property has to go to some cousin you've never met? Why?"  
"The land is entailed," Lydia said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

"It means it has to go to the eldest male relative," Kitty explained. "Us females get no say in the matter, but, truth be told, I wouldn't know what to do with an estate like this unless I had a husband to help me run it!"

"Hmmm." Gwen knew what entailment was, vaguely, and it seemed to be a silly idea. Why have to give your home to some male relative when there were perfectly able daughters to inherit the land? "Well. I suppose everyone'll meet him soon. When did you say he was coming?" Gwen asked, bumping Lydia off the swing with her hip, taking her place.

"Tonight," The two girls answered in tandem.

* * *

So Mr. Collins was creepy. Harmless, but creepy. After an hour or two of sitting in the garden pouring over her re-discovered journal, filling in the major events of the month it had been under the nightstand, and promising to try and keep a regular record of her life, Gwen was called in to prepare for Mr. Collins' visit.

Mrs. Bennet had them and the maid, Betsy, cleaning everything in sight, replacing the wilting flowers in the vase in the dining room, and making sure all the candles were lit.

They were shooed upstairs by Mrs. Bennet to get themselves cleaned up before their cousin arrived. Gwen remembered thinking how mad she'd be if her mother flew into such a tizzy whenever HER relatives came over.  
Mr. Collins arrived while the girls were still upstairs, and they were called down about ten minutes after he was invited inside.

Gwen's first impression was of a small, slightly sweaty, slightly toad-ish, extremely creepy man with hair that fit his head so well it looked like it had been poured on. She told herself that maybe he had a good sense of humour, or some other quality that would make him easy to get along with. Then he opened his mouth.

After what seemed like forever of listening to him drone on and on about 'Lady Catherine de Bourgh,' and her daughter, Gwen had made a comment on his very rehearsed-sounding compliments that made Lydia choke on her food and caused Jane to kick her, gently, under the table.

Another thing. He seemed to be not-so-subtly hitting on Jane, talking with her whenever the opportunity came up and shooting her glances often. He was her cousin. Gag.

After dinner, they had all been forced to sit through an hour of Collins reading sermons in his droning voice. Gwen resigned herself to spending two weeks with the man.

* * *

"Your cousin is ridiculous. AND he was hitting on you. Gross." Gwen said to Jane as the two were getting ready for bed that night.

"I'm sure he can't be that bad," the blonde said, worry lines appearing on her forehead. Jane was too nice for her own good sometimes. Gwen knew it wasn't THAT weird for cousins to get married in this time period, but the idea was foreign and kinda gross to her. She imagined having to marry one of her male cousins, and shuddered involuntarily.

"Pffft!" Gwen flopped onto the bed, Josh Ramsay grinning at the ceiling from her shirt. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again – YOU'RE TO FREAKING NICE!" she whisper-shouted.

Jane giggled. "No one can be too nice. There's good in everyone, even your Mr. Darcy."

Gwen flipped herself over onto her knees and grabbed her pillow, buffeting Jane over the head with it. "You dare speak his name in my presence?" She said, trying, and failing to suppress a grin.

"Oh, is that how it is?" Jane said, grabbing her own pillow and giving Gwen a half-hearted swat. The two made sure to stay as quiet as possible, but Mr. Bennet stuck his head in five minutes later and told them to go to bed.

"No peace in this house," he could be heard muttering as he made his way back to his bedroom. Gwen clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"I still say that Mr. Darcy is not as bad as he seems," Jane said once Gwen had quieted.

"If he's something other than a total snob slash jerk, then he's hid it well, don't you think?"  
Jane shrugged, and the two fell into silence for a minute or two.

"I suppose we'll be taking Mr. Collins to the ball at Netherfield when it comes up?" Jane nodded. "Blah." Gwen  
said, but smiled despite herself. "He's harmless enough, I suppose. If a little creepy."

Five minutes later, what Jane had said right before their pillow fight sunk in.

"What do you mean 'your Mr. Darcy'?"

* * *

"How is this supposed to be relaxing?" Mary asked, setting her brush on the ledge of her easel, frowning at her painting. Gwen had taken Mary out into the front garden where the rosebush was in full bloom by the entrance to Longbourn, and seemed to be calling the redhead to paint it. The two girls had lugged the piano bench out with them, along with two easels, five or six different types of brushes, and a set of oil paints.

"If you'd just loosen up a bit once and a while, Mare, maybe you wouldn't be so uptight all the time," Gwen said around the paintbrush clenched between her teeth. While one hand was holding the canvas steady, she was using the thumb of her other hand to blend the vibrant pink she was using with white to soften it. She leaned back and took the paintbrush out of her mouth, tucking it in the hair behind her ear, which had been scraped into a loose bun, and tilted her head to look at her work. She had chosen to paint the late bloomer of the bush, the petals baby soft and still half bloom.

"You only enjoy it because you are good at it," Mary said in exasperation.

"Not true," Gwen said, snatching the brush back from behind her ear to adjust the stem of the rose she was painting. "I got good at it because I like it," She said with relish. She had never been a neat painter. Thank goodness she had pushed the sleeves of her light blue dress up past her elbows. She had small amounts of green and pink paint splattered up both arms, all over her hands, and she was sure she had paint on her nose/forehead as well, but didn't particularly care.

Mary's painting wasn't even that bad. It wasn't amazing, but neither was Gwen's, and she was about to point this out when someone called her name.

"Miss Gwendolyn!" came the unmistakable voice of Mr. Collins. Gwen groaned internally, then plastered what she hoped was a friendly smile on her face and swung her legs around the bench so she was facing him.

"Yes?" He looked momentarily shocked by her paint-splattered appearance, but quickly collected himself. If it had been someone else, some who wasn't a Bennet, she would have been a bit embarrassed, but when Mr. Collins seemed taken aback by her appearance, she merely felt a sense of smug satisfaction. Don't like it, pretty boy?

"I was wondering if you would very much mind taking a turn about the estate with me. I much desire to have a tour."

Gwen really, really didn't want to take Mr. Collins on a tour, and looked to Mary for help, but saw none was forthcoming.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Collins, but I have to... finish my painting, then I'd promised I'd help Jane clean our room." She had made no such promise to Jane, but she _did_ want to finish her painting. Mr. Collins' face fell quite obviously.

"I shall get one of my cousins to show me around then, shall I?" He asked rhetorically, and Gwen smiled apologetically at him before turning back to her painting as he headed back into the house.

"Thanks for nothing," She said to Mary, elbowing her in the ribs, smiling at her.

"I don't know why you're so upset about him wanting to be with you. If I were you, I'd be quite happy," Mary sniffed, trying to fix her rose. Gwen sighed and went back to her painting.

Marry headed back inside ten minutes later, leaving Gwen to finish her painting. There really wasn't much else for her to do on it beside add highlights, lowlights, and details, but she really didn't want to go back inside, so she kept layering paint on and slightly changing small things.

That was what she was doing when she heard a carriage coming towards the estate.

"What now?" She muttered, making a face at her half-finished painting, as if expecting it to answer her question. The carriage entered the gate, and Gwen knew it must belong to the Fancies. The Bennet's carriage was nowhere near as fancy.

The beautiful black horse pulling the vehicle was reined to a halt by a man in a crisp black suit, and the curtain covering the window was twitched to the side, revealing Caroline Bingley's dour face. Gwen smirked as she stood to greet them.

Both doors of the carriage opened, and all three of the Fancies unfolded themselves from its depths, Mr. Bingley Smiling widely, Caroline Bingley looking around with evident distaste, and Mr. Darcy looking impassive, as usual.

Gwen was not easily embarrassed. She knew Mr. Bingley wouldn't think her any worse for being covered in paint, and she didn't really care what Caroline Bingley thought, but when Mr. Darcy's eyes rested on her, she felt her cheeks heat. Why would Mr. Darcy, of all people, have that effect on her? He was a prick. Maybe not as bad as Greg had been – he didn't seem the rumour-spreading asshat type, but he wasn't someone she particularly wanted to get to know better either.

"Can I help you?" She asked, focussing her attention on Mr. Bingley, who was looking hopefully at the house. She could help but see from the corner of her eye that Caroline Bingley was practically plastered to Mr. Darcy's side. Ha. Ha. Jerk gets what he deserves.

Mr. Bingley tore his attention away from the house and smiled sheepishly at her. "We are sorry to intrude, but I would like to speak with Jane, if it wouldn't be any trouble." Gwen was about to say that it would be no trouble, when he continued, quite flustered. "And Mrs. Bennet, of course," he added, his ears and cheeks lighting up like stoplights.

Gwen smiled. "No trouble at all, Mr. Bingley. One sec, I'll go get them." They all looked extremely confused by 'just a sec,' much to Gwen's amusement. Not being sure where either person she was looking for was, she called their names, and when they didn't answer, she knocked on Mr. Bennet's study, and the door swung open. There was no one there, but she found that, while she couldn't see them through the open window, she could clearly hear Caroline Bingley's simpering voice.

"What on Earth does 'just a sec' mean?" Caroline left no space for a reply before she was on to Gwen's next fault. "Did you see the state of her? And did you see the paint on her face, Mr. Darcy?" She giggled. "She looked absolutely ridiculous." Gwen arched an eyebrow.

"To the contrary, I thought she looked quite attractive. Skill at painting as an admirable quality in a woman." Gwen's other eyebrow shot up to join its pair. She stifled a laugh and withdrew from the room, resuming her search for Jane and Mrs. Bennet.

Gwen cleaned up her paints and canvas while Mr. Bingley and the two Bennet's discussed the upcoming ball, which was now going to be held next week, and the Fancies left. Gwen and Jane smiled and waved politely at the carriage as it pulled out, Mrs. Bennet having already gone inside, all a-flutter about the upcoming party.

"Glad they're gone," Gwen said, sighing as she grabbed the not-quite finished painting from where she had set it.

"I thought that the visit went well!" Jane said, helping Gwen bring the piano stool back inside.

"You didn't hear what Caroline Bingley had to say about me," Gwen laughed. She explained what the woman had said, leaving out Mr. Darcy's comment. She wanted to decipher what he could have meant by it before she told Jane.

The blonde looked shocked at what the woman had said, and told Gwen, half-heartedly, that maybe she had misunderstood something Caroline had said, but Gwen just shook her head and smiled at Jane's naivety.

* * *

Gwen was sure she was the only person still up. Jane's breathing was slow and even, and the rest of the house was dead quiet except for Mr. Collins' wheezy snoring. It wasn't that late, only about ten thirty by Gwen's guess. She was still finding it hard to fall asleep with the sun like the rest of the Bennets. Electricity and light bulbs were hard to come by in the seventeenth century.

Gwen pulled her journal closer to the candle on her nightstand, quill in hand, inkpot resting on the stand where it was in no danger of spilling. She dipped the quill in the ink and started writing, pouring anything and everything she could think of onto the page. She liked to think that one day a historian or someone would find her journal, and she had filled up the first twelve pages of the book with details about herself, where she came from, her family, and how she got to the seventeen hundreds. Now, she was determined to document as much as she could in the rest of the journal. Maybe someone would find it.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Again, sorry for the delay .**

**Please review!**


	5. Wickham

**I'M SO SORRY!** **Thank you to everyone who stuck around and posted reviews telling me you wanted more. If it wasn't for you I would have forgotten all about this. About a week after I posted that last update one of my close friends passed away. It messed me up for a while, and since then I've been catching up on school. Anyway, point is, I'm back! Please don't kill me**

**I'm wrapping up grade twelve now, so I don't know how often I'll get to update because man, it's not so much fun. Anyway, I'll try my hardest.**

**This is a little shorter than I wanted, but I wanted to upload it tonight, so I don't have any more excuses to procrastinate. Please keep thos reviews coming, because, like I said, they're the only reason I remembered that this was a thing.**

**Here goes**

* * *

Gwen tapped her foot on the ground impatiently, her fingernails keeping pace, rapping on the door frame.

"If you don't hurry up, Lydia, I'm going without you. That goes for you too, Kitty."

The door to the room shared by the younger Bennet girls flew open in a flurry of giggles and perfume.

"Relax, Gwendolyn. We simply want to look absolutely perfect for those dashing militia," Lydia giggled. Gwen rolled her eyes and made her way out front, where Jane was waiting for them.

"Ridiculous," Gwen muttered to Jane as their group headed towards Merryton. Jane laughed.

"They are behaving extremely well today, Gwen. Count your blessings." the two younger Bennets had dashed off, skipping ahead of their babysitters to giggle to themselves – and talk about how they were going to approach the militia men, Gwen was sure. They fell into companionable silence for a ways,

"Do you truly think that Mr. Bingley is in love with me?" Jane asked, sounding insecure. Gwen rolled her eyes and patted her on the shoulder.

"You worry too much. If he doesn't love you, he has a weird way of showing it. He asked for you the other day, when he and the others came over to invite us to the party. You." Jane bit her lip, then smiled.

"I suppose I'm being silly, aren't I?"

"Didn't I just say that?" Gwen grinned.

* * *

The market, as usual, was bustling with activity. As with whenever she went into town, Gwen was impressed with the colourful displays, the merchants hawking their wares, and the din of the crowd that made it necessary to raise one's voice to be heard. This hive of life was in stark contrast to the malls and flea markets she was used to, where no one would even consider yelling at you to buy their bonnets or aprons.

Gwen ducked out of yet another merchant's grasp, grabbing Jane's sleeve and tugging her out of a conversation with another peddler. He was selling hog food. Jane was incapable of saying 'sorry, but I'm not interested.'

"Come on! We have to find where your sisters have gone – Lord knows what trouble they've gotten themselves into," Gwen chuckled, releasing Jane's arm as they made it to the shelter of a building, away from the noisy mass of booths and merchants crowding the normally comparatively empty square. They kept moving through the empty space, keeping an eye out for the Bennet Duo. It was highly unlikely they would be found quickly. The market was so full of colour and movement that it made scanning the crowd difficult.

"I'm glad that these traveling vultures only come through here once a year," Gwen laughed. Before Jane could reply, Gwen, looking over the crowd and not at all paying attention to where she was going, ran face-first into a red-coated army man. Gwen took a stumbling step back, and he reflexively caught her by the elbow and steadied her.

"Oh, um, sorry, sir. I wasn't looking where I was going." The man in question was taller than her by about two inches, and was rather good looking. His face, while slightly surprised at being run into, slipped easily into a smile that made Gwen want to trust him. He reminded her of Greg. Not a good thing.

His eyebrows made her think of Orlando Bloom. Weird.

"Of course, Gwen," Said Kitty, suddenly appearing at the man's shoulder, Lydia at the other one.

"Did you run into him on purpose?" Lydia chimed. Gwen rolled her eyes. "Mr. Wickham is a lieutenant," Lydia bubbled on, her words barely seeming to pause coming out of her mouth.

"An enchanted Lieutenant," Wickham said, tilting his head slightly.

"What are you up to, Lydie?" Jane asked, and Gwen glanced back at her.

"We're only looking for some ribbon," Lydia said, far too innocent. Gwen was doing her best to avoid Wickham's eyes without seeming rude. The way he was looking at her was freaking her out.

"White, for the ball," Kitty clarified.

"Shall we all look for some ribbon together?" Wickham offered. Kitty and Lydia squealed in delight, and Gwen reluctantly nodded.

The group made its way toward the nearby fabric shop, Gwen and Jane exchanging a glace of trepidation. With Lydia acting like a love-struck loon, how can she embarrass the Bennets this time?

"I shan't even browse," Wickham commented as the entered the store. "I can't be trusted; I have very poor taste in ribbons."

Gwen smirked. "A lieutenant who has poor taste in ribbon? Shocking."

"It's true! And buckles. I'm entirely lost when it comes to buckles."

Gwen 'tsk tsk'd, her smirk turning into a grin. "What does anyone do with you? Poor taste in ribbon _and_ buckles? Useless." She laughed. Wickham chuckled and strolled towards the back room before turning back to her.

"Gwen?" called Lydia, interrupting whatever Wickham had been about to say. "Lend me some money?"

Gwen shook her head. "Sorry, Lydia, I must have left my wallet at home." Gwen did have some money on her, but that was for buying hair pins for her and Jane to use for the ball.

"Allow me," Wickham offered, smiling beguilingly at the youngest Bennet. Everything he did was suave. Gwen didn't trust him. She felt bad about not giving him a chance, but something in his mannerisms was too reminiscent of Greg.

"Mr. Wickham, you don't need to do that," Gwen said. Before she could finish her sentence, however, he had pulled the old (or was it new…) magic trick of pulling a coin from behind Lydia's ear.

"Oh thank you Mr. Wickham!" Lydia said, giggling and turning back to Kitty to find the ribbons they wanted.

"You really didn't need to do that," Gwen said. "If no one tells her no from time to time she's going to turn into more of a spoiled brat than she already is!" She laughed despite herself.

"It's no trouble," Wickham smiled.

* * *

The red-clad lieutenant insisted on escorting them back to Longbourn, turning each of her and Jane's polite refusals aside.

"What kind of chivalrous knight would I be if I let the princesses walk home alone?" Gwen internally made a face.

The narrow river, or brook, or whatever it was made a pleasant sound as it burbled alongside them, and regardless of her distrustful feelings towards Wickham, Gwen was beginning to enjoy herself. While she might not entirely trust him, Wickham was certainly a charmer. He spent most of the journey talking to her, though he definitely didn't ignore any of the Bennets.

Lydia was laughing at something he said, when Jane caught sight of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy across the river on horseback. Gwen hiked her skirt up a few inches and jogged to catch up with the Bennet sisters at the edge of the water.

She thought their choice of clothing and horse was very fitting. Happy Bingley dressed in light grey and white on a gorgeous white gelding, somber Darcy on a black mount with matching dark attire.

"Mr. Bingley, how do you like my ribbons for your ball?" Lydia asked, capering around, waving a mass of tangled ribbons in the air. Gwen chuckled at her antics.

"Very beautiful," Mr. Bingley agreed cheerily.

She let her eyes slide to Mr. Darcy. As usual, he didn't look very happy. His displeasure, however, seemed to be directed at Mr. Wickham, rather than herself or any of the Bennets.

Gwen stopped paying attention to Lydia's antics as she ran around, choosing instead to trying to decipher the sudden death-match glaring contest going on between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham. IF this had taken place back at her old high school, it probably would have already devolved into punches being thrown. Or maybe not. Boys were confusing. Why not stick to spreading rumors behind one another's backs and pretending that nothing was wrong? Oops, that was her hateful inner teenage girl coming out, that was going to have to stop.

Without saying a word, Darcy dug his heels into his horse and spun it around, heading back the way he and Mr. Bingley had come. Point to Wickham.

"Of course, you must come Mr. Wickham," Bingley said, answering Lydia's question that Gwen had only half heard. Wickham inclined his head politely.

"If you'll excuse me ladies, enjoy the day!" Mr. Bingley said, turning to follow his dour companion's dust trail.

"How those two became friends is beyond me," Gwen muttered to herself.

* * *

They continued on their way home, Mr. Wickham much quieter than before. Completely oblivious to the change in his mood, Lydia clung on him the rest of the way, incessantly asking questions about whether or not he would attend the Netherfield Ball.

"Perhaps," he answered, smiling wanly. Squealing with delight, Lydia ran to catch up with Kitty and Jane, a few yards ahead. Judging by how Jane was tugging on the ribbons Kitty held, they were discussing what to do with the material.

"Miss Yardley," Mr. Wickham started, angling his chest toward her as they walked. Gwen glanced up at him, smiling politely. They were almost home. When they got there, she would have to try and sort out what was bugging her about him so much.

"How long has Mr. Darcy been staying at Netherfield?" He asked.

Gwen had to think for a moment. She had arrived – by whatever means – almost a month before the Fancies arrival at Netherfield. Since then… jeez, had it been another month already? No, not quite. Next week would mark her second month in the seventeen hundreds.

"Nearly I month, I guess." She shrugged. She glanced up at him. He had returned to paying attention to the ground in front of him, a little furrow of concentration in his brow. He really did look like Orlando Bloom. "I haven't really been keeping track. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but do you know him from elsewhere?"

His eyes snapped to her than quickly back to the ground as the worry lines on his forehead disappeared and he chuckled.

"Indeed. I've been connected with his family since infancy." He stopped smiling and his frown returned. "Given our cold greeting, it is understandable that you are surprised."

"Hm." Gwen didn't particularly care how he felt about Mr. Darcy, but the way she was raised, along with the rigorous training received at Longbourn compelled her to be polite. "Well, I hope your visit isn't ruined by whatever bad blood is between the two of you." There, duty to her mother and late eighteenth century society fulfilled.

"No, if he wishes to avoid seeing me, _he_ must go, not I." Okay, now she was a LITTLE curious what the problem was between them. It may have just been her inner gossip monger, but this sounded interesting.

"What went wrong between you two if you don't mind my asking."

"No not at all." He smiled briefly before it flickered away. "My father managed the Darcy estate; we grew up together, Darcy and I. His father treated me like a second son." He let his heels drag as he slowed down a bit, remembering. "We were both with him the day he died. With his last breath, his father bequeathed me the rectory on his estate."

_Note to self_. Gwen thought._ Ask what the heck a rectory is. Also, drama queen much? _Alright, maybe that wasn't fair. But still. It was a little over dramatic.

"He knew I had my heart set on joining the church. Darcy ignored his wishes and gave the living to another man." Wickham looked bitterly at his black army boots as he picked up the pace of his stride a bit, so as not to lose the Bennets, who had widened the gap between them.

As much as she didn't like Darcy, Gwen didn't want to believe what Wickham said was true.

"Why would he do something like that?"

"Jealousy," was Wickham's simple answer. "His father… well he loved me better and Darcy couldn't stand it." Gwen nodded, avoiding eye contact. Maybe the reason he seemed a little off to her was that he was still trying to recover from the wrong Darcy had done him. Maybe.

"Now I'm a poor foot soldier, too lowly to be noticed." Gwen glanced up at him, but Wickham seemed remarkably cheerful. There was a touch of bitterness in his eyes, but he was smiling at her.

The rest of the walk was uneventful. They caught up with the sisters, and Wickham kissed each of their hands before saying farewell. As much as she had missed chivalry back in her time, Gwne wasn't sure how she felt about hand kissing. It was nice if you didn't mind, or were romantically involved with the kiss-er, but if everyone was running around kissing hands it sort of took the specialness out of it.

* * *

"I still think there was something weird about him," Gwen said as she was finishing off her journal entry for the day. She had been talking to Jane about Wickham before she pulled he pen and the little leather bound book out, but the more she thought about it, the more she thought was off about the lieutenant. "To be fair though, it could just be left-over bitterness about Greg… yet still…"

"I wouldn't worry too much about him," Jane counselled. "You're not going to have to deal with him once the militia head out again." She giggled. "I mean, unless he proposes to you before he leaves."

Gwen scowled at her in an exaggerated fashion, then stuck her tongue out and grinned at her.

"Puh-lease, that's not going to happen. I wouldn't say yes anyway. I want to actually know a guy before I agree to marry him."

"Know him? Know him how?" It seemed like a foreign concept to Jane.

"You know, his favourite colour, what kind of food he likes, doesn't like. What books he reads, you know, stuff like that." Jane still didn't seem to get it. Gwen sighed. "You can't really know a person until you've spent a lot of time with them. You have to know how they behave when they're in certain moods, if they'd make a good husband or not."

"I suppose that's fair," Jane said. "Sometimes though, you have to marry quickly before they get a better dowry." Gwen would never understand the eighteenth century.

* * *

It was the day of the Netherfield ball and the Bennet household was kind of going crazy.

"Ow Kitty!"

"Sorry!"

"Betsy where's my necklace?!"

"Good lord I need some alcohol," Gwen groaned.

"Pass the pin," Jane asked quietly, a calm oasis among the storm that was her sisters. Gwen grabbed a pin and helped Jane take in her dress. She had lost enough weight to take her down half a dress size, and she didn't want any gaping at the front or back. Once that was done, Jane turned to Gwen with a smile.

"Your turn!"

Gwen groaned. She had been happy doing Jane's hair whilst in her sweats and giant sweater, but now… into restrictive undergarments and freaking corsets. Not her idea of a good time.

Fine minutes later, Jane was cinching up said corset.

"Ow ow ow, ow. Owowowowow. Ow. Why must you hurt me this way? I can't breathe!"

"Almost there, Gwen. Just one last yank…" Gwen braced herself.

"Ow…" she wheezed as all the air remaining in her lungs squished out. And she thought six inch stilettoes were hard to exist in. This was only her second time in a corset, since all the other balls she had been to hadn't been as fancy or demanding as this one. The first time had just been practice. That time hadn't been pretty either.

She eventually got used to breathing, and Jane helped her pour herself into the gorgeous dress the Bennets had gotten for her. It was fairly ornate, with black swirling patterns on the ivory bodice and sleeves, the material flowing smoothly to the floor.

"You look so beautiful Janey," Mrs. Bennet proclaimed, entering the room as Jane was finishing up with Gwen's hair. Gwen rolled her eyes and puffed at a chunk of hair Jane had missed to draw her attention to it.

"You're being ridiculous mother," Jane insisted, snagging the hair and pining it back with the rest.

"Jane no, we've talked about this. Accepting compliments is a good thing. Besides, you do look great." Gwen smiled at her in the mirror. It was amazing what never having to wear much makeup did for the skin. Her own face was approaching the clarity of Jane's.

"Well, you both look wonderful. We'll be leaving in twenty minutes, dears." Mrs. Bennet bustled out of the room to check on her other daughters.

"Here we go. You excited yet?" Jane asked as they made their way down the stairs. Getting out of the house would be a relief, until the little Bennets flooded into the carriage, bringing their noise with them.

Gwen shrugged. "Just another dance."

* * *

**Ahdkjhfkajdhfkjashdf okay. All done.**

**I hope you liked it! You guys certainly waited long enough for this .**

**Anyway, like I said at the top, I'll try to be better. Review please!**

**~Dragongirl**


	6. Netherfield Disaster

**Yay! An update in a timely fashion! This is the Netherfield Ball. I've realized how awful the first few chapters are (ie how close they follow the script of the movie) so once I'm done with the whole story, I will go back and re-write the first five chapters. Also, I'm six chapters into my story and half an hour into the movie *passes out***

* * *

Netherfield looked beautiful in candle light as the Bennet carriage made its way towards the mansion. There was already a big line of people waiting to enter the huge mansion. Finally. The carriage was a little cramped with six Bennets and a Yardley. Thankfully, Mr. Collins had taken his own carriage to the ball.

"Thank you," Gwen told the Bennet's driver slash gardener, Robert, as he helped her out of the vehicle behind Mary. These dresses were going to be the death of her. Already naturally clumsy, the skirts and pinch-y shoes of the seventeen hundreds were seriously hampering her ability to walk. Once she started walking around she knew she would be more comfortable in the dress and corset, but until then…

"Sorry!" she said, wincing. That would be some high-blooded lady's dress she just stepped on. The Bingley's had invited several of their friends from neighbouring towns, and the flood of army men staying in Meryton had attracted many more people as well.

This was her first big party since being sucked back in time, and she wondered if she'd meet anyone famous. Probably not, but there was hope. Maybe she would know someone in one of those black and white pictures in the history books lining the shelves of her high school library. God she needed more entertainment. A movie theatre would be nice. Or internet.

She engaged in polite small talk with some of the few people she knew, but with all these army men here there were many she was unfamiliar with. They seemed to travel with an entourage of females. Must be the old-time-y versions of fangirls. Speaking of fangirls, she wondered how The Doctor was doing.

She internally shrugged and stepped up next to Mary Bennet.

"Aren't you at least a little excited?" she asked the dour-faced girl. "It's a party, at least smile a bit, like this," She demonstrated. "See?" Mary glared at her.

"I hate-"

"I know, I know, 'you hate balls.'" Gwen rolled her eyes. "maybe if you just gave balls a chance?" She had to repress a giggle.

She knew she was getting a lot better with this whole 'in-the-seventeen-hundreds' thing, but was she really at the point where she could giggle at repeated usage of the word 'balls'? Apparently so. A chuckle slipped out.

The inside of Netherfield was even more gorgeous. While the mansion had always been beautiful, the entryway was now overflowing with crystal cut glass candelabras and chandeliers, several vases of white flowers. It was an elegant, white, perfect wonderland. Gwen sensed days of servant preparation, with Caroline Bingley overseeing, of course. She flicked a dangling crystal on a nearby candelabrum as she and the Bennets waited for their turn to curtsey politely to the host and hostess. Then the fun could begin.

She was thinking a little wine, a little dancing, maybe a little more wine… she missed Captain Morgan's. She had never been a huge partier, but it had been too long since she had had some good drunk fun. Last time had been the weekend before she left, at a beach party with all her friends. And even then, she had kept her consumption to a minimal level. Years of babysitting her younger brother had ingrained a sense of responsibility in her.

She sighed and took up her 'place' as the second oldest of the children. Weird European customs. She supposed getting well and truly drunk would be frowned upon, so she resolved to try and stick with 'majorly tipsy.'

She grinned in satisfaction as they reached the front of the line. Two Fancies, present and reporting for duty. Caroline looked rather nice, she had to concede. Her white dress fit her well. Why was white the only colour fit to wear for a formal occasion? Every female in the place was wearing white. s

Mr. Charles Bingley was well trimmed too, making googly eyes at Jane as per the usual. She and Jane dipped in polite curtsey.

"I'm so pleased you're here," Mr. Bingley said to Jane, not taking his eyes from her. Maybe she was just too cynical too young, but the puppy eyes were making Gwen feel like gagging. It might have been something else though, she supposed. Maybe she was turning into a bitter old hag. At 20!

"So am I!" Jane replied enthusiastically.

"And how are you, Miss Gwendolyn?" He asked her, finally turning to acknowledge her presence.

"Very well sir. Netherfield looks gorgeous," She returned politely.

"Good," He replied with a smile. He really was quite adorable. She needed to stop giving them a hard time, even if it was only internally.

They both headed inside the main part of the mansion, and when Gwen was one hundred percent sure they were out of earshot, she tugged Jane's arm.

"You two are so cute together, it may just cause my eyes to fall out." Jane looked shocked. Gwen rolled her eyes. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. You two are adorable together though." She grinned to show her sincerity. Before Jane could fully recover, she let go of her arm and wiggled her fingers in goodbye as she turned left and walked away. Time to find wine and the dance floor.

The rest of the building was just as fantastical as the entryway. If she strained her imagination, walking through the crowded hallways, she could almost imagine that she was back at home at some themed wedding or another. Maybe her mother would be around the corner.

She rounded said corner, and while she knew that her mother wasn't going to be there, her heart still fell in disappointment.

She continued through the ballroom, rising on her tiptoes to see over the heads of the people watching the dance floor. The band was somewhere nearby, classical music floating through the ginormous room.

She caught the flicker of black coattails in the corner of her eye, but when she turned, whoever it was had disappeared.

She dodged a rather boisterous young drunk fellow (the party just started, how was he that drunk already?) and continued through the party, making her way towards who she thought was Charlotte, judging by the glimpse she had caught over some rich lady's curly hair.

"Charlotte!" she exclaimed upon reaching her friend. "Time to- oh hello Mr. and Mrs. Lucas," she quickly curtsied politely to the two. "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you Miss Yardley," Mrs. Lucas nodded graciously, her husband doing the same.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to steal your daughter for a moment." She grinned innocently. Charlotte's parents indicated their consent and Gwen tugged on her friend's arm, pulling her towards the living room. Where the wine was, she figured.

"Have you danced with anyone yet?" she asked as they weaved through a small gaggle of people clustered by the door.

"No, I have not." She sounded a bit put out.

"Well we'll just have to-" Gwen was cut off by a tap on her shoulder. The two of them were in the living room now, and Gwen could see Jane a few feet off speaking with… someone in a suit. She turned and was caught off guard by the sight of none other than the Bennets' house guest.

"Mr. Collins," she said after a brief pause, Charlotte and herself dipping into a quick curtsy. What was with her and men in this time period? Collins was into his cousins, Wickham was… well she didn't know what he was, and Darcy was a snob! The only actual nice guys she had met had eyes for other girls! Goodness.

"Perhaps you will do me the honour, Miss Gwendolyn," Mr. Collins said, gesturing towards the dance floor. Gwen exchanged a glance with Charlotte. Her friend didn't seem to share her trepidation.

She had no desire to dance with him, in fact, she greatly desired not to dance with him. However Jane was looking and she would tell Mrs. Bennet and there would be no peace, especially considering that he was the Bennets' house guest "Uhm, I suppose so," She said, knitting her brow as she followed him to the dance floor, pretending to not see his proffered hand. He _dances?_ What was the world coming to?

Luckily for her, Jane was asked to dance by Mr. Bingley for this dance as well, she noticed as she took her place in line with the other ladies. As the music started up, Gwen was glad she was familiar with it. She would rather not make a fool of herself, if only for Mrs. Bennet's sake.

As they started what she liked to call whirligig-ing, she couldn't help but notice that Charlotte was off to the side, nursing a glass of wine, looking forlornly at the dance floor. That girl needed some serious wing-woman help.

Gwen glanced back to her partner, only to quickly glance away when she found him _staring at her face_. Gwen started to hyperventilate as much as her restricting corset would allow. Did this man have no respect for boundaries or… nope, still staring at her.

She grasped Jane's hand as they circled.

"Help. Me," she whispered. Jane just giggled.

"Well, you might be interested to know that-" they separated momentarily. "Wickham isn't here."

"Why?" She asked. Jane opened her mouth to answer, but Mr. Collins cut her off.

"Dancing is of no consequence to me-" They spun away from each other. Where was he going with this? "But it does allow one a chance to-" Uh-oh.

"My informer tells me Mr. Wickham would be more inclined to be here if it were not-" Jane moved away from her, Mr. Collins coming back within earshot.

"It is my intention, if I may-"

"If it were not for the presence of a certain gentleman." Maybe her weird feeling about Wickham _was_ just because of this wrong Darcy had done to him. Aaaand she was back to Mr. Collins.

"If I may be so bold, my intentions are to stay close to you for the rest of the evening," He finished as the song stopped. It was a good thing it had, too, because Gwen would have frozen mid-step in slack-jawed horror. The word 'no' seemed to be looping in her head without sign of stopping. She managed to pull herself together quickly enough that not too many people noticed her momentary loss of muscle function.

* * *

It had taken a bit of maneuvering, but she had finally lost Mr. Collins. It was at Charlotte's expense, unfortunately. She had mouthed 'sorry' at her friend as she sidled off. The mousy brown haired girl didn't seem too upset though, so that was good.

The music had stopped as the musicians took a break for food and water. Gwen made a mental note to look for Charlotte and save her from the clutches of Collins.

She found Jane smiling politely, listening to the conversation going on around her. She seemed to have been roped into a group with Mr. Bennet and some of his friends. From what she could hear, they were discussing finances. Gwendolyn to the rescue!

"Jane!" she exclaimed, beckoning her away from her father. Jane extracted herself elegantly from the conversation and grabbed Gwen's hand as she dragged her away.

"Saved you!" Gwen called back to the blonde. Before she could respond, Gwen continued. "You would have been so mortified if you had seen what I did. Mr. Collins asked me to dance and then he was creeping me out so the next chance I-"

He flow of words was interrupted by a large wall of flesh.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I wasn't-" the man she had run into had reflexively grasped her shoulders to stop her from tumbling to the ground. Wincing at her clutsy-ness, she flicked her eyes up to see who she had body-checked.

Of course, it was Mr. Darcy. She had great luck that way.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, biting the inside of her cheek nervously.

"It's quite alright," He said, his face as impassive as ever. Just as Gwen noticed that his hands were still on her shoulders, he let her go. "May I have the next dance, Miss Gwendolyn?"

Taken back, she took a moment to respond.

"I didn't think you- yes of course you may." Well she didn't think that one through.

Mr. Darcy turned off to see to some business or other until the musicians began playing again. Internally cursing, Gwen grabbed Jane and pulled her to the side of the room.

"Did he-" Jane nodded, smiling widely.

"And I agreed? You let me?!" She placed a hand on her diaphragm, feeling her corset expand and deflate quite quickly as she threatened to hyperventilate.

"Oh come, Gwen, he's not so bad, and maybe you will even enjoy yourself," Jane insisted.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Nope, I promised myself I wouldn't trust him until he had redeemed himself. I have seen NO redeeming on his part." Jane just laughed and turned to walk away. "Jaaaaane!" Gwne chased after her. "The LEAST you could have done was give me a way out to take if I wanted!"

So much for chicks before dicks.

Gwen sighed. She started weaving her way through the dance floor. She better get there before the band started back up. Jane would never let her hear the end of it if she missed her dance with snooty mcsnoothead.

* * *

She took up her place in the line a couple women down from Jane (who was across from Mr. Bingley) opposite of Mr. Darcy. She hoped she knew this dance, like she did the one with Mr. Collins.

As confused as she was about the males of the eighteenth century, she _thought_ she liked Mr. Darcy the best, though Wickham was not out of the running yet. She would ask Darcy about him, she resolved, either during or after the dance.

The song started up, a fairly slow number compared to others previously played. She was happy to note that not only did she know it, but it was one of the few she actually liked. Maybe it was because it reminded her of one of the piano pieces she played when she was in the school band (though this was mostly violin), maybe it was just because the slower tempo gave her time to think about what she was doing, but either way, she enjoyed it.

She was enjoying something with Morose Mr. Darcy, who would'a thought?

"Are you having a nice evening?" She finally asked as they danced, the persistent silence making her uncomfortable.

He glanced down at her (wow, he really was a lot taller than her. Almost five inches she guesstimated). "It is agreeable."

She waited for him to add to that, or steer the conversation in another direction, but he didn't say anything else.

"Are you liking it here at Netherfield?" she tried.

"It is pleasant." So much for that. Was this man made of marble? What was going on here? Maybe she was spoiled with twenty-first century men. Then she remembered Greg, along with all the other guys she knew from school, and was slightly less perturbed by Darcy's apparent disinterest. Slightly being the key word.

"Do you always talk when dancing?" She lifted an eyebrow as they moved apart. Something in his tone, the slight patronising edge to it, miffed her. Suddenly, his hand didn't seem as nice on hers.

"Look," She started, drawing his attention down to her as they moved back together. "I'm sorry if I'm raining on you parade here, but I like to talk and socialize and I try to be pleasant, but you're making it kind of hard on me here."

She certainly had surprised him. His chocolate brown eyes widened in shock. He must have expected her to be docile like most of these other women, her claws removed so she could look pretty and play the part of the perfect wife. She supposed that twenty-first century women were made of different stuff.

"My apologies," he said. Gwen couldn't tell if he was being sincere or not.

"No, it's my fault," She sighed. "I suppose I just don't understand your attitude." They split apart again, only to come back together moments later. What exactly was the point of this style of dancing again?

"My attitude?" His brows knit in what appeared to be genuine confusion. Gwen nodded, getting herself back into her happy place so she wouldn't seem rude.

"You never seem to enjoy yourself! You always seem to be brooding over something, and I don't believe I've seen you smile at all since we met." She looked up at him and demonstrated. "See, like this?"

He gave a vague attempt that didn't reach his eyes.

"We'll work on it."

They danced in silence for a moment.

"What you said, before, something about never forgetting other's offences against you," His gaze turned wary. "I am assuming that applies to your old friend Mr. Wickham?"

Mr. Darcy's look turned absolutely black. Gwen could almost hear the electricity snapping off him. Oops.

"He has such a charming manner," Gwen could sense his teeth grinding. "He is sure to make new ones wherever he goes."

They were approaching the end of the dance, finally. It had been alright up until she had opened her big fat mouth about Wickham. Now the silence stretched uncomfortably.

"My mother always said you could judge someone's character by how they treated others." As soon as the words popped out of her mouth, even at the low volume she had said them, she wished she hadn't opened her stupid fat jaw. Maybe Darcy hadn't heard her.

No such luck, of course.

"I am sorry if I have disappointed you."

The song finished at that moment. Gwen was back to chewing on her cheek nervously. She curtsied, avoiding his eyes, wincing as the man stormed off.

"You messed that one up but good," she muttered.

* * *

**Gah, I hope it's alright! **

**Review please! It fuels my imagination, and encourages faster updates by keeping this story at the top of my mind instead of stupid school work**


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